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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

Education 

GIFT  OF 


Louise  Farrx^w  Barr 


Nine  Little   Goslings. 


By  SUSAN   COOLIDGE,  f>  je^^. 

AUTHOR    OF    "tHB    NEW    YEAR's    BARGAIN,"     "MISCHIEF'S     THANKSGIVING,*' 

"what  katy  did,"  "what  katy  did  at  school." 


IV/T//  ILLUSTRATIONS, 


CURLY  LOCKS.  ONE,  TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE. 

GOOSEY,    GOOSEY  GANDER.  RIDK  A  COCK-HORSE. 

LITTLE   BO-PEEP.  LADY   QUUEN   ANNE. 

MISTRESS   MARY.  UP,     UP,     UP,     AND     DOWN, 
LADY   BIRD.  DOWN,     DOWN-Y. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS      BROTHERS. 

1893. 


Copyright,  1875, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


Education 
GIFT 


University  Press*  John  Wilson  &  Son, 
Cambridge, 


nirx 
Library 


flatten  nursery  lamps  are  veiled^  and  nurse  is  singing 

In  accents  low, 
Timing  her  music  to  the  cradle's  swinging, 

Now  fast,  now  slow,  — 

Singing  of  Baby  Bunting,  soft  and  furry 

In  rabbit  cloak. 
Or  rock-a-byed  amid  the  toss  and  flurry 

Of  wind-swept  oak  ;    , 

Of  Boy-Blue  sleeping  with  his  horn  beside  him , 

Of  my  son  John, 
Who  went  to  bed  (let  all  good  boys  deride  him) 

With  stockings  on  ; 

Of  sweet  Bo-Peep  following  her  lambkins  straying  ; 

Of  Dames  in  shoes  ; 
Of  cows,  considerate,  *mid  the  Piper's  playing, 

Which  tune  to  choose  ; 

Of  Gotham's  wise  men  bowling  o'er  the  billow^ 

Or  him,  less  wise. 
Who  chose  rough  bramble-bushes  for  a  pillow, 

And  scratched  his  eyes,  — 

409 


It  may  he,  while  she  sings,  that  through  the  portal 

Soft  footsteps  glide, 
And,  all  invisible  to  grown-up  mortal. 

At  cradle  side 

Sits  Mother  Goose  herself,  the  dear  old  mother j 
And  rocks  and  croons, 

In  tones  which  Bahy  hearkens,  hut  no  other^ 
Her  old-new  tunes  ! 

I  think  it  must  he  so,  else  why,  years  after, 

Do  we  retrace 
And  mix  with  shadowy,  recollected  laughter 

Thoughts  of  that  face  ; 

Seen,  yet  unseen,  heaming  across  the  ages, 

Brimful  of  fun 
And  wit  and  wisdom,,  haffling  all  the  sages 
Under  the  sun  ? 

A  grown-up  child  has  place  still,  which  no  other 

May  dare  refuse  ; 
I,  grown  up,  hring  this  offering  to  our  Mother, 

To  Mother  Goose  ; 

And,  standing  with  the  hahies  at  that  olden, 

Immortal  knee, 
I  seem  to  feel  her  smile,  henign  and  golden. 

Falling  on  me. 


CONTENTS. 

3HA?  rAOB 

I.    Curly  Locks 1 

11.     Goosey,  Goosey  Gander 40 

III.  Little   Bo-Peep 65 

IV.  Mistress  Mary 101 

V.     Lady  Bird 137 

VI.    One,  Two,  Buckle  My  Shoe 165 

VIL     Ride  a  Cock-Horsb 197 

VIIL    Lady  Queen  Anne 228 

IX.    Up,  Up,  Up,  and  Down,  Down,  Down-y  •  259 


CURLY  LOCKS. 

W^HEN  a  little  girl  is  six  and  a  little  boy  is 
six,  they  like  pretty  much  the  same  things 
and  enjoy  pretty  much  the  same  games.  She 
wears  an  apron,  and  he  a  jacket  and  trousers, 


2  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS'. 

but  they  are  both  equally  fond  of  running  races, 
spinning  tops,  flying  kites,  going  down  hill  on 
sleds,  and  making  a  noise  in  the  open  air.  But 
when  the  httle  girl  gets  to  be  eleven  or  twelve, 
and  to  grow  thin  and  long,  so  that  every  two 
months  a  tuck  has  to  be  let  down  in  her  frocks, 
then  a  great  difference  becomes  visible.  The 
boy  goes  on  racing  and  whooping  and  comport- 
ing himself  generally  like  a  young  colt  in  a 
pasture ;  but  she  turns  quiet  and  shy,  cares  no 
longer  for  rough  play  or  exercise,  takes  droll 
little  sentimental  fancies  into  her  head,  and  likes 
best  the  books  which  make  her  cry.  Almost  all 
girls  have  a  fit  of  this  kind  some  time  or  other 
in  the  course  of  their  lives ;  and  it  is  rather  a 
good  thing  to  have  it  early,  for  little  folks  get 
over  such  attacks  more  easily  than  big  ones. 
Perhaps  we  may  live  to  see  the  day  when  wise 
mammas,  going  through  the  list  of  nursery  dis- 
eases which  their  children  have  had,  will  wind  up 
triumphantly  with,  "Mumps,  measles,  chicken- 
pox, —  and  they  are  all  over  with  ^Amy  Her- 


CURLY  LOCKS.  3 

bert/  ^The  Heir  of  Redclyffe/  and  the  notion 
that  they  are  going  to  be  miserable  for  the  rest 
of  their  Hves !  " 

Sometimes  this  odd  change  comes  after  an 
illness  when  a  little  girl  feels  weak  and  out  of 
sorts,  and  does  not  know  exactly  what  is  the 
matter.  This  is  the  way  it  came  to  Johnnie 
Carr,  a  girl  whom  some  of  yon  who  read  this 
are  already  acquainted  with.  She  had  inter- 
mittent fever  the  year  after  her  sisters  Katy 
and  Clover  came  from  boarding-school,  and  was 
quite  ill  for  several  weeks.  Everybody  in  the 
house  was  sorry  to  have  Johnnie  sick.  Katy 
nursed,  petted,  and  cosseted  her  in  the  tenderest 
way.  Clover  brought  flowers  to  the  bedside  and 
read  books  aloud,  and  told  Johnnie  interesting 
stories.  Elsie  cut  out  paper  dolls  for  her  by 
dozens,  painted  their  cheeks  pink  and  their  eyes 
blue,  and  made  for  them  beautiful  dresses  and 
jackets  of  every  color  and  fashion.  Papa  never 
came  in  without  some  little  present  or  treat  in 
his  pocket  for  Johnnie.     So  long  as  she  was  in 


4  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

bed,  and  all  these  nice  things  were  doing  for  her, 
Johnnie  liked  being  ill  very  much,  but  when 
she  began  to  sit  up  and  go  down  to  dinner,  and 
the  family  spoke  of  her  as  almost  well  again, 
then  a  time  of  unhappiness  set  in.  The  John- 
nie who  got  out  of  bed  after  the  fever  was  not 
the  Johnnie  of  a  month  before.  There  were 
two  inches  more  of  her  for  one  thing,  for  she 
had  taken  the  opportunity  to  grow  prodigiously, 
as  sick  children  often  do.  Her  head  ached  at 
times,  her  back  felt  weak,  and  her  legs  shook 
when  she  tried  to  run  about.  All  sorts  of  queer 
and  disagreeable  feelings  attacked  her.  Her 
hair  had  fallen  out  during  the  fever  so  that 
Papa  thought  it  best  to  have  it  shaved  close. 
Katy  made  a  pretty  silk-lined  cap  for  her  to 
wear,  but  the  girls  at  school  laughed  at  the  cap, 
and  tliat  troubled  Johnnie  very  much.  Then, 
when  the  new  hair  grew,  thick  and  soft  as  the 
plumy  down  on  a  bird's  wing,  a  fresh  affliction 
set  in,  for  the  hair  came  out  in  small  round 
rinsjs  all  over  her  head,  which  made  her  look  like 


CURLY  LOCKS,  5 

a  baby.  Elsie  called  her  ''  Curly/'  and  gradu- 
ally the  others  adopted  the  name,  till  at  last 
nobody  used  any  other  except  the  servants,  who 
still  said  ''  Miss  Johnnie."  It  was  hard  to  recog- 
nize the  old  Johnnie,  square  and  sturdy  and 
full  of  merry  life,  in  poor,  thin,  whining  Curly, 
always  complaining  of  something,  who  lay  on 
the  sofa  reading  story-books,  and  begging  Phil 
and  Dorry  to  let  her  alone,  not  to  tease  her,  and 
to  go  off  and  play  by  themselves.  Her  eyes 
looked  twice  as  big  as  usual,  because  her  face 
was  so  small  and  pale,  and  though  she  was  still 
a  pretty  child,  it  was  in  a  different  way  from 
the  old  prettiness.  Katy  and  Clover  were  very 
kind  and  gentle  always,  but  Elsie  sometimes 
lost  patience  entirely,  and  the  boys  openly  de- 
clared that  Curly  was  a  cross-patch,  and  hadn't 
a  bit  of  fun  left  in  her. 

One  afternoon  she  was  lying  on  the  sofa  with 
the  "  Wide  Wide  World  "  in  her  hand.  Her 
eyelids  were  very  red  from  crying  over  Alice's 
death,  but  she  had  galloped  on,  and  was  now 


6  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

reading  the  part  where  Ellen  Montgomery  goes 
to  live  with  her  rich  relatives  in  Scotland. 

"  Oh,  dear/'  sighed  Johnnie.  "  How  splen- 
did it  was  for  her  !  Just  think.  Clover,  riding 
lessons,  and  a  watch,  and  her  uncle  takes  her 
to  see  all  sorts  of  places,  and  they  call  her  their 
White  Eose  !  Oh,  dear !  I  wish  we  had  relations 
in  Scotland." 

''  We  haven't,  you  know,"  remarked  Clover, 
threading  her  needle  with  a  fresh  bit  of  blue 
worsted. 

"I  know  it.  It's  too  bad.  Nothing  ever 
does  happen  in  this  stupid  place.  The  girls  in 
books  always  do  have  such  nice  times.  Ellen 
could  leap,  and  she  spoke  French  Seawtifully. 
She  learned  at  that  place,  you  know,  the  place 
where  the  Humphreys  lived." 

"Litchfield  Co.,  Connecticut,  said  Clover 
mischievously.  "  Katy  was  there  last  summer, 
you  recollect.  I  guess  they  don't  all  speak 
such  good  French.     Katy  didn't  notice  it." 

"  Ellen  did,"  persisted  Johnnie.     "  Her  uncle 


CURLY  LOCKS,  7 

and  all  those  people  were  so  surprised  when 
they  heard  her.  Wouldn't  it  be  grand  to  be 
an  adopted  child,  Clover  ?  " 

"  To  be  adopted  by  people  who  gave  you 
your  bath  like  a  baby  when  you  were  thii-teen 
years  old,  and  tapped  your  lips  when  they  didn't 
want  you  to  speak,  and  stole  your  Pilgrim's 
Progresses?  No,  thank  you.  I  would  much 
rather  stay  as  I  am." 

"  I  wouldn't,"  replied  Johnnie  pensively.  "  I 
don't  like  this  place  very  much.  I  should  love 
to  be  rich  and  to  travel  in  Europe." 

At  this  moment  Papa  and  Katy  came  in  to- 
gether. Katy  was  laughing,  and  Papa  looked 
as  if  he  had  just  bitten  a  smile  off  short.  In 
his  hand  was  a  letter. 

"  Oh,  Clovy,"  began  Katy,  but  Papa  inter- 
posed with  "  Katy,  hold  your  tongue ; "  and 
though  he  looked  quizzical  as  he  said  it,  Katy 
saw  that  he  was  half  in  earnest,  and  stopped  at 
once. 

"  We're  about  to  have  a  visitor,'   bo  went  on, 


8  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

I  icking  Johnnie  up  and  settling  her  in  his  lap, 
—  ^^a  distinguished  visitor.  Curly,  you  must 
put  on  your  best  manners,  for  she  comes  espe- 
cially to  see  you." 

"  A  visitor !  How  nice  !  Who  is  it  ?  "  cried 
Clover  and  Johnnie  with  one  voice.  Visitors 
were  rare  in  Burnet,  and  the  children  regarded 
them  always  as  a  treat. 

"  Her  name  is  Miss  Inches,  —  Marion  Joanna 
Inches,"  replied  Dr.  Carr,  glancing  at  the  letter, 
"She's  a  sort  of  godmother  of  yours.  Curly; 
you've  got  half  her  name." 

"  Was  I  really  named  after  her  ?  " 
"  Yes.  She  and  Mamma  were  school-friends, 
and  though  they  never  met  after  leaving  school, 
Mamma  was  fond  of  her,  and  when  little  No.  4 
came,  she  decided  to  call  her  after  her  old  in- 
timate. That  silver  mug  of  yours  was  a  present 
from  her." 

"  Was  it  ?     Where  does  she  live  ?  " 
"  At  a  place  called  Inches  Mills,  in  Massachu- 
setts.    She's  the  rich  lady  of   the  village,  and 


CURLY  LOCKS,  9 

has  a  beautiful  house  and  groands,  where  she 
lives  all  alone  by  herself.  Her  letter  is  written 
at  Niagara.  She  is  going  to  the  Mammoth  Cave, 
and  writes  to  ask  if  it  will  be  convenient  for  us 
to  have  her  stop  for  a  few  days  on  the  way. 
She  wants  to  see  her  old  friend's  children,  she 
says,  and  especially  her  namesake." 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  sighed  Johnnie,  ruffling  her 
short  hairs  with  her  fingers.  "  I  wish  my  curls 
were  longer.  What  will  she  think  when  she 
sees  me  ?  " 

"She'U  think 

**  There  is  a  little  girl,  and  she  has  a  little  curl 
Right  in  the  middle  of  her  forehead  ; 
When  she  is  good  she  is  very,  very  good, 
And  when  she  is  bad  she  is  horrid —  *' 

said  Dr.  Carr,  laughing.  But  Johnnie  didn't 
laugh  back.     Her  lip  trembled,  and  she  said, — 

"  I'm  not  horrid  really^  am  I  ?  " 

''  Not  a  bit,"  replied  her  fatlier ;  "  you're  only 
a  little  goose  now  and  then,  and  I'm  such  an  old 
gander  that  I  don't  mind  that  a  bit." 


10  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

Johnnie  smiled  and  was  comforted.  Her 
thoughts  turned  to  the  coming  visitor. 

"  Perhaps  she'll  be  hke  the  rich  ladies  in 
storj^-books/'  she  said  to  herself. 

Next  day  Miss  Inches  came.  Katy  was  an 
experienced  housekeeper  now,  and  did  not 
worry  over  coming  guests  as  once  she  did.  The 
house  was  always  in  pleasant,  home-hke  order  \ 
and  though  Debby  and  Alexander  had  fulfilled 
Aunt  Izzie's  prediction  by  marrying  one  another, 
both  stayed  on  at  Dr.  Carr's  and  were  as  good 
and  faithfiil  as  ever,  so  Katy  had  no  anxieties 
as  to  the  dinners  and  breakfasts.  It  was  late  in 
the  afternoon  when  the  visitor  arrived.  Fresh 
flowers  filled  the  vases,  for  it  was  early  June, 
and  the  garden-beds  were  sweet  with  roses  and 
lilies  of  the  valley.  The  older  girls  wore  new 
summer  muslins,  and  Johnnie  in  white,  her 
short  curls  tied  back  with  a  blue  ribbon,  looked 
unusually  pretty  and  delicate. 

Miss  Inches,  a  wide-awake,  handsome  woman, 
seemed  much  pleased  to  see  them  all. 


CURLY  LOCKS,  11 

"  So  this  is  my  name-child/'  she  said,  putting 
her  arm  about  Johnnie.  ^^This  is  my  little 
Joanna?  You're  the  only  child  I  have  any 
share  in,  Joanna;  I  hope  we  shall  love  each 
other  very  deeply." 

Miss  Inches'  hand  was  large  and  white,  with 
beautiful  rings  on  the  fingers.  Johnnie  was 
flattered  at  being  patted  by  such  a  hand,  and 
cuddled  affectionately  to  the  side  of  her  name- 
mamma. 

"  What  eyes  she  has !  "  murmured  Miss  Inches 
to  Dr.  Carr.  She  lowered  her  voice,  but  John- 
nie caught  every  word.  "  Such  a  lambent  blue, 
and  so  full  of  soul.  She  is  quite  different  from 
the  rest  of  your  daughters.  Dr.  Carr ;  don't  you 
think  so  ?  " 

^^She  has  been  ill  recently,  and  is  looking 
thin,"  replied  the  prosaic  Papa. 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that !  There  is  something  else, 
—  hard  to  put  into  words,  but  I  feel  it!  You 
don't  see  it  ?  WeU,  that  only  confirms  a  theory 
of  mine,  that  people  are  often  blind  to  the  quali- 


12  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

ties  of  their  nearest  relations.  We  cannot  get 
our  own  families  into  proper  perspective.  It 
isn't  possible." 

These  fine  words  were  lost  on  Johnnie,  but 
Bhe  understood  that  she  was  pronounced  nicer 
than  the  rest  of  the  family.  This  pleased  her : 
she  began  to  think  that  she  should  hke  Miss 
Inches  very  much  indeed. 

Dr.  Carr  was  not  so  much  pleased.  The  note 
from  Miss  Inches,  over  which  he  and  Katy  had 
laughed,  but  which  was  not  shown  to  the  rest, 
had  prepared  him  for  a  visitor  of  rather  high- 
flown  ideas,  but  he  did  not  like  having  Johnnie 
singled  out  as  the  subject  of  this  kind  of  praise. 
However,  he  said  to  himself,  "  It  doesn't  matter. 
She  means  well,  and  jolly  little  Johnnie  won't  be 
harmed  by  a  few  days  of  it." 

Jolly  little  Johnnie  would  not  have  been 
harmed,  but  the  pale,  sentimental  Johnnie  left 
behind  by  the  recently  departed  intermittent 
fever,  decidedly  was.  Before  Miss  Inches  had 
been  four  days  in  Burnet,  Johnnie  adored  her 


CURLY  LOCKS.  13 

and  followed  her  about  like  a  shadow.  Never 
had  anybody  loved  her  as  Miss  Inches  did,  she 
thought,  or  discovered  such  fine  things  in  her 
character.  Ten  long  years  and  a  half  had  she 
lived  with  Papa  and  the  children,  and  not  one 
of  them  had  found  out  that  her  eyes  were  full 
of  soul,  and  an  expression  "  of  mingled  mirth 
and  melancholy  unusual  in  a  childish  face,  and 
more  like  that  of  Goethe's  Mignon  than  any 
thing  else  in  the  world  of  fiction !  "  Johnnie 
had  never  heard  of  "  Mignon^''  but  it  was  de- 
lightful to  be  told  that  she  resembled  her,  and 
she  made  Miss  Inches  a  present  of  the  whole  of 
her  foolish  little  heart  on  the  spot. 

^'  Oh,  if  Papa  would  but  give  you  to  me  ! "  ex- 
claimed Miss  Inches  one  day.  "  If  only  I  could 
have  you  for  my  own,  what  a  delight  it  would 
be  !  My  whole  theory  of  training  is  so  different, 
—  you  should  never  waste  your  energies  in 
house-work,  my  darling,  (Johnnie  had  been 
dusting  the  parlor) ;  it  is  sheer  waste,  with  an 
intelligence  like   yours   lying  fallow  and  cnly 


14  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

waiting  for  the  master's  hand.  Would  you 
conie^  Johnnie,  if  Papa  consented  ?  Inches 
Mills  is  a  quiet  place,  but  lovely.  There  are 
a  few  bright  minds  in  the  neighborhood;  we 
are  near  Boston,  and  not  too  far  from  Concord. 
Such  a  pretty  room  as  you  should  have,  darling, 
fitted  up  in  blue  and  rose-buds,  or  —  no,  Morris 
green  and  Pompeian-red  would  be  prettier, 
perhaps.  What  a  joy  it  would  be  to  choose 
pictures  for  it,  —  pictures,  every  one  of  which 
should  be  an  impulse  in  the  best  Art  direction ! 
And  how  you  would  revel  in  the  garden,  and  in 
the  fruit!  My  strawberries  are  the  finest  I 
ever  saw ;  I  have  two  Alderney  cows  and  quan- 
tities of  cream.  Don't  you  think  you  could  be 
happy  to  come  and  be  my  own  little  Curly,  if 
Papa  would  consent  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Johnnie  eagerly.  "And  I 
could  come  home  sometimes,  couldn't  I  ? " 

"  Every  year,"  replied  Miss  Inches.  "  We'll 
tak<*  such  lovely  journeys  together,  Johnnie, 
and  see  all  sorts  of  interesting  places.     Would 


CURLY  LOCKS.  15 

yoii  like  best  to  go  to  California  or  to  Switzer- 
land next  summer?  I  think,  on  the  whole, 
Switzerland  would  be  best.  I  want  you  to 
form  a  good  French  accent  at  once,  but,  above 
all,  to  study  German,  the  language  of  thouglit 
Then  there  is  music.  We  might  spend  the 
winter  at  Stuttgard — " 

Decidedly  Miss  Inches  was  counting  on  her 
chicken  before  hatching  it,  for  Dr.  Carr  had 
yet  to  be  consulted,  and  he  was  not  a  parent 
who  enjoyed  interference  with  his  nest  or  nest- 
lings. When  Miss  Inches  attacked  him  on  the 
subject,  his  first  impulse  was  to  whistle  with 
amazement.  Next  he  laughed,  and  then  he 
became  almost  angry.  Miss  Inches  talked  very 
fasi;,  describing  the  fine  things  she  would  do 
with  Johnnie,  and  for  her ;  and  Dr.  Carr,  having 
no  chance  to  put  in  a  word,  listened  patiently, 
and  watched  his  little  girl,  who  was  clinging  to 
her  new  friend  and  looking  very  eager  and  anx- 
ious. He  saw  that  her  heart  was  set  on  being 
*^' adopted,"  and,  wise  man  that  he  was,  it  oc- 


16  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

curied  to  him  that  it  might  be  well  to  grant 
her  wish  in  part,  and  let  her  find  out  by  experi- 
ment what  was  really  the  best  and  happiest 
thing.  So  he  did  not  say  "  No  "  decidedly,  as 
he  at  first  meant,  but  took  Johnnie  on  his  knee, 
and  asked,  — 

"Well,  Curly,  so  you  want  to  leave  Papa 
and  Katy  and  Clover,  and  go  away  to  be 
Miss  Inches'  little  girl,  do  you?" 

"I'm  coming  home  to  see  you  every  single 
summer,"  said  Johnnie. 

"  Indeed !  That  will  be  nice  for  us,"  re- 
sponded Dr.  Carr  cheerfully.  "But  somehow 
I  don't  seem  to  feel  as  if  I  could  quite  make 
up  my  mind  to  give  my  Curly  Locks  away. 
Perhaps  in  a  year  or  two,  when  we  are  used 
to  being  without  her,  I  may  feel  differently. 
Suppose,  instead,  we  make  a  compromise.'* 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Inches,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,"  put  in  Johnnie,  who  had  not  the  least 
idea  of  what  a  compromise  might  be. 

"I  can't  give  away  my  little  girl,  —  not  yet/' 


CURLY  LOCKS.  17 

—  went  on  Dr.  Carr  fondly.  "  But  if  Miss  Inches 
likes  I'll  lend  her  for  a  little  while.  You  may 
go  home  with  Miss  Inches,  Johnnie,  and  stay 
four  months,  —  to  the  first  of  October,  let  us 
say."  ("  She'll  miss  two  weeks'  schooling,  but 
that's  no  great  matter,"  thought  Papa  to  him- 
self.) "This  will  give  you,  my  dear  lady,  a 
chance  to  try  the  experiment  of  having  a  child 
in  your  house.  Perhaps  you  may  not  like  it  so 
well  as  you  fancy.  If  you  do,  and  if  Johnnie 
still  prefers  to  remain  with  you,  there  will  be 
cime  enough  then  to  talk  over  further  plans. 
How  will  this  answer  ?  " 

Johnnie  was  delighted.  Miss  Inches  not  so 
much   so. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said,  "  it  isn't  so  satisfac- 
tory to  have  the  thing  left  uncertain,  because  it 
retards  the  regular  plan  of  development  which 
I  have  formed  for  Johnnie.  However,  I  can 
allow  for  a  parent's  feelings,  and  I  thank  you 
very  much.  Dr.  Carr.  I  feel  assured  that,  as 
you  have  five  other  children,  you  will  in  time 


18  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

make  up  your  mind  to  let  me  keep  Johnnie  en- 
tirely  as  mine.  It  puts  a  new  value  into  life,  — 
this  chance  of  having  an  immortal  intelligence 
placed  in  my  hands  to  train.  It  will  be  a  real 
dehght  to  do  so,  and  I  flatter  myseK  the  result 
will  surprise  you  all." 

Dr.  Carr's  eyes  twinkled  wickedly,  but  he 
made  Miss  Inches  the  politest  of  bows,  and  said : 
"  You  are  very  kind,  I  am  sure,  and  I  hope 
Johnnie  will  be  good  and  not  give  you  much 
trouble.  When  would  you  wish  her  visit  to 
commence  ?  " 

''  Oh  —  now,  if  you  do  not  object.  I  should  so 
enjoy  taking  her  with  me  to  the  Mammoth  Cave, 
and  afterward  straight  home  to  Massachusetts. 
You  would  like  to  see  the  Cave  and  the  eyeless 
fish,  wouldn't  you,  darling  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes.  Papa,  yes !  "  cried  Johnnie.  Dr. 
Carr  was  rather  taken  aback,  but  he  made  no 
objection,  and  Johnnie  ran  off  to  tell  the  rest 
of  the  family  the  news  of  her  good  fortune. 

Their  dismay  cannot  be  described.     "  I  really 


CURLY  LOCKS.  19 

do  think  that  Papa  is  crazy/'  said  Clover  that 
night;  and  though  Katy  scolded  her  for  using 
such  an  expression,  her  own  confidence  in  his 
judgment  was  puzzled  and  shaken.  She  com- 
forted herself  with  a  long  letter  to  Cousin 
Helen,  telling  her  all  about  the  affair.  Elsie 
cried  herself  to  sleep  three  nights  running,  and 
the  boys  were  furious. 

"The  idea  of  such  a  thing,"  cried  Dorry, 
flinging  himself  about,  while  Phil  put  a  table- 
spoonful  of  black  pepper  and  two  spools  of 
thread  into  his  cannon,  and  announced  that  if 
Miss  Inches  dared  to  take  Johnnie  outside  the 
gate,  he  would  shoot  her  dead,  he  would,  just  as 
sure  as  he  was  alive ! 

In  spite  of  this  awful  threat.  Miss  Inches  per- 
sisted in  her  plan.  Johnnie's  little  trunk  was 
packed  by  Clover  and  Katy,  who  watered  its 
contents  with  tears  as  they  smoothed  and  folded 
the  frocks  and  aprons,  which  looked  so  hke 
their  Curly  as  to  seem  a  part  of  herself,  —  their 
Curly,  who  was  so  glad  to  leave  them ! 


20  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

"Never  mind  the  thick  things/'  remarked 
Dr.  Carr,  as  Katy  came  through  the  hall  with 
Johnnie's  winter  jacket  on  her  arm.  "Put  in 
one  warmish  dress  for  cool  days,  and  leave  the 
rest.  They  can  be  sent  on  if  Johnnie  decides 
to  stay." 

Papa  looked  so  droll  and  gave  such  a  large 
wink  at  the  word  "if/'  that  Katy  and  Clover 
felt  their  hearts  lighten  surprisingly,  and  fin- 
ished the  packing  in  better  spirits.  The  good- 
by,  however,  was  a  sorry  affair.  The  girls 
cried ;  Dorry  and  Phil  sniffed  and  looked  fiercely 
at  Miss  Inches ;  old  Mary  stood  on  the  steps  with 
her  apron  thrown  over  her  head ;  and  Dr.  Carr's 
face  was  so  grave  and  sad  that  it  quite  fright- 
ened Johnnie.  She  cried  too,  and  clung  to  Katy. 
Almost  she  said,  "  I  won't  go,"  but  she  thought 
of  the  eyeless  fish,  and  didn't  say  it.  The  car- 
riage drove  off,  Miss  Inches  petted  her,  every- 
thing was  new  and  exciting,  and  before  long 
she  was  happy  again,  only  now  and  then  a 
thought  of  home  would  come  to  make  her  lips 
quiver  and  her  eyes  fill. 


CURLY  LOCKS,  21 

The  wonderful  Cave,  with  its  vaults  and  gal- 
leries hung  with  glittering  crystals,  its  un- 
derground river  and  dark  lake,  was  so  like  a 
fairy  tale,  that  Johnnie  felt  as  if  she  must  go 
right  back  and  tell  the  family  at  home  about  it. 
She  relieved  her  feelings  by  a  long  letter  to 
Elsie,  which  made  them  all  laugh  very  much. 
In  it  she  said,  '^  Ellen  Montgomery  didn't  have 
any  thing  half  so  nice  as  the  Cave,  and  Mamma 
Marion  never  taps  my  lips."  Miss  Inches,  it 
seemed,  wished  to  be  called  "  Mamma  Marion." 
Every  mile  of  the  journey  was  an  enjoyment  to 
Johnnie.  Miss  Inches  bought  pretty  presents 
for  her  wherever  they  stopped :  altogether,  it 
was  quite  like  being  some  little  girl  taking  a 
beautiful  excursion  in  a  story-book,  instead  of 
plain  Johnnie  Carr,  and  Johnnie  felt  that  to  be 
an  "adopted  child  "  was  every  bit  as  nice  as  she 
had  supposed,  and  even  nicer. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  they  reached 
Inches  Mills,  so  nothing  could  be  seen  of  the 
house,   except  that  it  was  big  and  had   trees 


22  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

around  it.  Johnnie  went  to  sleep  in  a  large 
bedroom  with  a  huge  double  bed  all  to  herseK, 
and  felt  very  grown-up  and  important. 

The  next  day  was  given  to  unpacking  and 
seeing  the  grounds ;  after  that,  Miss  Inches  said 
they  must  begin  to  lead  a  regular  lif  e^  and  John- 
nie must  study.  Johnnie  had  been  to  school  all 
winter,  and  in  the  natural  course  of  things 
would  have  had  holidays  now.  Mariima  Marion^ 
however,  declared  that  so  long  an  idle  time 
would  not  do  at  all. 

"Education,  my  darling,  is  not  a  thing  of 
periods,"  she  explained.  "  It  should  be  like  the 
air,  absorbed,  as  it  were,  all  the  time,  not  like  a 
meal,  eaten  just  so  often  in  the  day.  This  idea 
of  teaching  by  paroxysms  is  one  of  the  fatal 
mistakes  of  the  age." 

So  all  that  warm  July  Johnnie  had  French 
lessons  and  German,  and  lessons  in  natural 
philosophy,  beside  studying  English  literature 
after  a  plan  of  Miss  Inches'  own,  which  com- 
bined history  and  geography  and  geology,  with 


CURLY  LOCKS,  23 

readings  from  various  books,  and  accounted  for 
the  existence  of  all  the  great  geniuses  of  the 
world,  as  if  they  had  been  made  after  a  regular 
recipe,  —  something  Uke  this :  — 

TO    MAKE    A   POET. 

Take  a  political  situation,  add  a  rocky  soil,  and  the 
western  slope  of  a  great  water-shed,  pour  into  a  mould 
and  garnish  with  laurel  leaves.  It  will  be  found  deli- 
cious ! 

The  "  lambent  blue  "  of  Johnnie's  eyes  grew 
more  lambent  than  ever  as  she  tried  to  make 
head  and  tail  of  this  wonderful  hash  of  people 
and  facts.  I  am  afraid  that  Mamma  Marion 
was  disappointed  in  the  intelligence  of  her  pupil, 
but  Johnnie  did  her  best,  though  she  was  rather 
aggrieved  at  being  obliged  to  study  at  all  in 
summer,  which  at  home  was  always  play-time. 
The  children  she  knew  were  having  a  delightful 
vacation  there,  and  living  out  of  doors  from 
morning  till  night. 

As  the  weeks  went  on  she  felt  this  more  and 
more.  Change  of  air  was  making  her  rosy  and 
fat,  and  with  returning  strength  a  good  deal  ol 


24  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS 

the  old  romping,  hearty  Johnnie  came  bacK: ;  or 
would  have  come,  had  there  been  anybody  to 
romp  with.  But  there  was  nobod}^,  for  Miss 
Inches  scarcely  ever  invited  children  to  her 
house.  They  were  brought  up  so  poorly  she 
said.  There  was  nothing  inspiring  in  their 
contact.  She  wanted  Johnnie  to  be  something 
quite  different. 

So  Johnnie  seldom  saw  anybody  Except 
^^  Mamma  Marion"  and  her  friends,  who  came 
to  drink  tea  and  talk  about  "  Protoplasm/'  and 
the  ^^  Higher  Education  of  Women,"  which 
wasn't  at  all  interesting  to  poor  Curly.  She 
always  sat  by,  quietly  and  demurely,  and  Miss 
Inches  hoped  was  listening  and  being  improved, 
but  really  she  was  thinking  about  something  else, 
or  longing  to  climb  a  tree  or  have  a  good  game 
of  play  with  real  boys  and  girls.  Once,  in  the 
middle  of  a  tea-party,  she  stole  upstairs  and 
indulged  in  a  hearty  cry  all  to  herself,  over  the 
thought  of  a  little  house  which  she  and  Dorry 
and    Phil   had   built  in    Paradise   the   summer 


CURLY  LOCKS,  25 

before ;  a  house  of  stumps  and  old  boards, 
lined  with  moss,  in  which  they  had  had  such  a 
good  time. 

Almost  as  soon  as  they  got  home,  Miss  Inches 
sent  to  Boston  for  papers  and  furniture,  and 
devoted  her  spare  time  to  fitting  up  a  room  for 
her  adopted  child.  Johnnie  was  not  allowed  to 
see  it  till  all  was  done,  then  she  was  led  tri- 
umphantly in.  It  was  pretty  —  and  queer  — 
perhaps  queerer  than  pretty.  The  walls  were 
green-gray,  the  carpet  gray-green,  the  furniture 
pale  yellow,  almost  white,  with  brass  handles 
and  hinges,  and  lines  of  dull  red  tiles  set  into 
the  wood.  Every  picture  on  the  walls  had  a 
meaning.  Miss  Inches  explained. 

''  Some  of  these  I  chose  to  strengthen  your 
mind,  Johnnie,  dear,"  she  said.  ''-  These  portraits, 
for  example.  Here  are  Luther,  Mahomet,  and 
Theodore  Parker,  three  of  the  great  Protest- 
ants of  the  world.  Life,  to  be  worthy,  must  be 
more  or  less  of  a  protest  always.  I  want  you  to 
remember  that.     This  photograph  is  of  Michael 


2(5  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

Angelo's  Moses.  I  got  you  that  too^  because  it 
is  so  strong.  I  want  you  to  be  strong.  Do  you 
like  it?" 

"  I  think  it  would  be  prettier  without  the 
curl-papers/'  faltered  the  bewildered  Johnnie. 

"  Curl-papers !  My  dear  child,  where  are  your 
eyes  ?  Those  are  horns.  He  wore  horns  as  a 
law-giver." 

"  Yes,  ma'am/'  said  Johnnie,  not  daring  to 
ask  any  more  questions  for  fear  of  making  more 
mistakes. 

"  These  splendid  autotypes  are  from  the  ceil- 
ing of  the  Sistine  Chapel  in  Rome,  the  glory 
of  the  world,"  went  on  Miss  Inches.  "  And 
here,  Johnnie,  is  the  most  precious  of  all.  This 
I  got  expressly  for  you.  It  is  an  education  to 
have  such  a  painting  as  that  before  your  eyes. 
I  rely  very  much  upon  its  influence  on  you." 

The  painting  represented  what  seemed  to  be 
a  grove  of  tall  yellow-green  sea-weeds,  waving 
against  a  strange  purple  sky.  There  was  a 
path  between  the  stems  of  the  searweeds,  and 


CURLY  LOCKS,  27 

up  this  path  trotted  a  pig,  rather  soft  and 
smudgy  about  his  edges,  as  if  he  were  running  a 
little  into  the  background.  His  quirly  tail  was 
smudgy  also;  and  altogether  it  was  more  like 
the  ghost  of  a  pig  than  a  real  animal,  but  Miss 
Inches  said  that  was  the  great  beauty  of  the 
picture. 

Johnnie  didn't  care  much  for  the  painted  pig, 
but  she  liked  him  better  than  the  great  Ee- 
f ormers,  who  struck  her  as  grim  and  frightful ; 
while  the  very  idea  of  going  to  sleep  in  the 
room  with  the  horned  Moses  scared  her  almost 
to  death.  It  preyed  on  her  mind  all  day ;  and 
at  night,  after  Johnnie  had  gone  to  bed,  Miss 
Inches,  passing  the  door,  heard  a  little  sob,  half 
strangled  by  the  pillows.     She  went  in. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  cried. 

^^It's  that  awfal  man  with  horns,"  gasped 
Johnnie,  taking  her  head  out  from  under  the 
bedclothes.  ^^I  can't  go  to  sleep,  he  frightens 
me  so." 

"  Oh,  my  darling,  what,  what  weakness,"  cried 
Mamma  Marion. 


28  NIAE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

She  was  too  kind,  however,  to  persist  in 
any  plan  which  made  Johnnie  unhappy,  so 
Moses  came  down,  and  Johnnie  was  allowed  to 
choose  a  picture  to  fill  his  place.  She  selected  a 
chromo  of  three  little  girls  in  a  swing,  a  dread- 
ful thing,  all  blue  and  red  and  green,  which 
Miss  Inches  almost  wept  over.  But  it  was  a 
great  comfort  to  Johnnie.  I  think  it  was  the 
chromo  which  put  it  into  Mamma  Marion's  head 
that  the  course  of  instruction  chosen  for  her 
adopted  child  was  perhaps  a  httle  above  her 
years.  Soon  after  she  surprised  Johnnie  by  the 
gift  of  a  doll,  a  boy  doll,  dressed  in  a  suit  of 
Swedish  gray,  with  pockets.  In  one  hand  the 
doll  carried  a  hammer,  and  under  the  other 
arm  was  tucked  a  small  portfolio. 

"  I  like  to  make  your  sports  a  little  instruc- 
tive when  I  can,"  she  said,  ''  so  I  have  dressed 
this  doU  in  the  costume  of  Linnaeus,  the  great 
botanist.  See  what  a  nice  little  herbarium  he 
has  got  under  his  arm.  There  are  twenty-four 
tiny  specimens  in  it,  with  the  Latin  and  English 


CURLY  LOCKS,  29 

names  of  each  written  underneath.  If  you 
could  learn  these  perfectly,  Johnnie,  it  would 
give  you  a  real  start  in  botany,  which  is  the 
most  beautiful  of  the  sciences.  Suppose  you 
try.     What  will  you  name  your  doll,  darling  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Johnnie,  glaring  at 
the  wax-boy  with  very  hostile  feelings. 

"LinnaBus?  No,  I  don't  quite  like  to  give 
that  name  to  a  doll.  Suppose,  Johnnie,  we 
christen  him  Hortus  Siccus.  That's  the  Latin 
name  for  a  herbal,  and  will  help  you  to  remem- 
ber it  when  you  form  one  of  your  own.  Now 
take  him  and  have  a  good  play." 

How  was  it  possible  to  have  a  good  play  with 
a  doll  named  Hortus  Siccus  f  Johnnie  hated 
him,  and  could  not  conceal  the  fact.  Miss  In- 
ches was  grieved  and  disappointed.  But  she 
said  to  herself,  "  Perhaps  she  is  just  too  old  for 
dolls  and  just  too  young  to  care  for  pictures. 
It  isn't  so  easy  to  fix  a  child's  mental  position 
as  I  thought  it  would  be.  I  must  try  some- 
thing else." 


30  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

She  really  loved  Johnnie  and  wished  to  make 
her  happy,  80  the  thought  occurred  of  giving 
her  a  child's  party.  "  I  don't  approve  of  them/' 
she  told  her  friends.  "  But  perhaps  it  may  be 
possible  to  combine  some  instruction  with  the 
amusements,  and  Johnnie  is  so  pleased.  Dear 
little  creature,  she  is  only  eleven,  and  small 
things  are  great  at  that  age.  I  suppose  it  is 
always  so  with  youth." 

Twenty  children  were  asked  to  the  party. 
They  were  to  come  at  four,  play  for  two  hours 
in  the  garden,  then  have  supper,  and  afterward 
games  in  the  parlor. 

Johnnie  felt  as  if  she  had  taken  a  dose  of 
laughing-gas,  at  the  sight  of  twenty  boys  and 
girls  all  at  once,  real  boys,  real  girls !  How  long 
it  was  since  she  had  seen  any !  She  capered  and 
jumped  in  a  way  which  astonished  Miss  Inches, 
and  her  high  spirits  so  infected  the  rest  that  a 
general  romp  set  in,  and  the  party  grew  noisy 
to  an  appalling  degree. 

"  Oh,  Johnnie  dear,  no  more  '  Tag/  "  cried 


CURLY  LOCKS,  31 

poor  Mamma  Marion^  catching  her  adopted 
child  and  wiping  her  hot  face  with  a  handke^r- 
chief .  "  It  is  really  too  rude,  such  a  game  as 
that.     It  is  only  fit  for  boys." 

"  Oh,  please  !  —  please  !  — please  !  "  entreated 
Johnnie.  "  It  is  splendid.  Papa  always  let  us ; 
he  did  indeed,  he  always  did." 

"I  thought  you  were  my  child  now,  and 
anxious  for  better  things  than  tag,"  said  Miss 
Inches  gravely.  Johnnie  had  to  submit,  but 
she  pouted,  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  looked 
crossly  about  her,  in  a  way  which  Mamma 
Marion  had  never  seen  before,  and  which  an- 
noyed her  very  much. 

^^Now  it  is  time  to  go  to  supper,"  she  an- 
nounced. "  Form  yourselves  into  a  procession, 
children.  Johnnie  shall  take  this  tambourine 
and  Willy  Parker  these  castanets,  and  we  will 
march  in  to  the  sound  of  music." 

Johnnie  liked  to  beat  the  tambourine  very 
much,  so  her  sulks  gave  place  at  once  to  smiles. 
The  boys  and  girk  sorted  themselves  into  cou- 


32  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

pies,  Miss  Inches  took  the  head  of  the  proces- 
sion with  an  accordion,  Willy  Parker  clashed 
the  castanets  as  well  as  he  could,  and  they  all 
marched  into  the  house.  The  table  was  beau- 
tifully spread  with  flowers  and  grapes  and  pretty 
china.  Johnnie  took  the  head,  Willy  the  foot, 
and  Dinah  the  housemaid  helped  them  all  round 
to  shced  peaches  and  cream. 

Miss  Inches  meanwhile  sat  down  in  the  corner 
of  the  room  and  drew  a  httle  table  full  of  books 
near  her.  As  soon  as  they  were  all  served,  she 
began,  — 

"Now,  dear  children,  while  you  eat,  I  will 
read  aloud  a  little.  I  should  like  to  think  that 
each  one  of  you  carried  away  one  thought  at 
least  from  this  entertainment,  —  a  thought  which 
would  stay  by  you,  and  be,  as  it  were,  seed- 
grain  for  other  thoughts  in  years  to  come. 
First,  I  will  read  '  Abou  Ben  Adhem,'  by  Leigh 
Hunt,  an  English  poet." 

The  children  listened  quietly  to  Abou  Ben 
Vdhem,  but  when  Miss  Inches  opened  another 


CURLY  LOCKS.  33 

book  and  began  to  read  sentences  from  Emer- 
son^ a  deep  gloom  fell  upon  the  party.  Willy 
Parker  kicked  his  neighbor  and  made  a  face. 
Lucy  Hooper  and  Grace  Sherwood  whispered 
behind  their  napkins,  and  got  to  laughing  till 
they  both  choked.  Johnnie's  cross  feelings 
came  back;  she  felt  as  if  the  party  was  being 
spoiled,  and  she  wanted  to  cry.  A  low  buzz  of 
whispers,  broken  by  titters,  went  round  the  table, 
and  through  it  all  Miss  Inches'  voice  sounded 
solemn  and  distinct,  as  she  slowly  read  one  pas- 
c^age  after  another,  pausing  between  each  to  let 
the  meaning  sink  properly  into  the  j^outhful 
mind. 

Altogether  the  supper  was  a  failure,  in  spite 
of  peaches  and  cream  and  a  delicious  cake  full 
of  plums  and  citron.  When  it  was  over  they 
went  into  the  parlor  to  play.  The  game  o: 
"Twenty  Questions"  was  the  first  one  chosen. 
Miss  Inches  played  too.  The  word  she  sug- 
gested was  "  iconoclast." 

"We  don't  know  ^^^^i  it  means/'  objected 
the  children* 


34  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

"  Oh,  don't  you,  dears  ?  It  means  a  breaker 
of  idols.  However,  if  you  are  not  familiar  with 
it  we  will  choose  something  else.  How  would 
'  Miehael  Angelo  '  do  ?  " 

"But  we  never  heard  any  thing  about  him." 

Miss  Inches  was  shocked  at  this,  and  began 
a  little  art-lecture  on  the  spot,  in  the  midst  of 
which  Willy  Parker  broke  in  with,  "  I've  thought 
of  a  word,  —  ^hash'?" 

"  Oh,  yes !  Capital !  Hash  is  a  splendid 
word ! "  chorussed  the  others,  and  poor  Miss 
Inches,  who  had  only  got  as  far  as  Michael 
Angelo's  fourteenth  year,  found  that  no  one 
was  listening,  and  stopped  abruptly.  Hash 
seemed  to  her  a  vulgar  word  for  the  children  to 
choose,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  she 
resigned  herself. 

Johnnie  thought  hash  an  excellent  word.  It 
was  so  funny  when  Lucy  asked  whether  the 
thing  chosen  was  animal,  vegetable,  or  mineral  ? 
and  Willy  replied,  "All  three,"  for  he  explained 
in  a  whivsper,  there  was  always  salt  in  hash,  and 


CURLY   LOCKS,  35 

Bait  was  a  mineral.  "  Have  you  all  seen  it  ?  " 
questioned  Lucy.  "  Lots  of  times/'  shouted  the 
children,  and  there  was  much  laughing.  After 
''  Twenty  Questions/'  they  played  "  Sim  says 
wiggle-waggle/'  and  after  that,  "  Hunt  the 
Slipper."  Poor,  kind,  puzzled  Miss  Inches  was 
relieved  when  they  went  away,  for  it  seemed  to 
her  that  their  games  were  aU  noisy  and  a  fear- 
ful waste  of  time.  She  resolved  that  she  would 
never  give  Johnnie  any  more  parties ;  they  up- 
set the  child  completely,  and  demoralized  her 
mind. 

Johnnie  was  upset.  After  the  party  she  was 
never  so  studious  or  so  docile  as  she  had  been 
before.  The  little  taste  of  play  made  her  dis- 
like work,  and  set  her  to  longing  after  the  home- 
life  where  play  and  work  were  mixed  with  each 
other  as  a  matter  of  course.  She  began  to 
think  that  it  would  be  only  pleasant  to  make  up 
lier  bed,  or  dust  a  room  again,  and  she  pined 
for  the  old  nursery,  for  Phil's  whistle,  for  Elsie 
and  the  paper-dolls,   and   to   feel  Katy's  arms 


36  NINE  UTILE  GOSLINGS. 

round  her  once  more.  Her  letters  showed  the 
growing  home-sickness.  Dr.  Carr  felt  that  the 
experiment  had  lasted  long  enough.  So  he  dis- 
covered that  he  had  business  in  Boston,  and  one 
fine  September  day,  as  Johnnie  was  forlornly 
poring  over  her  lesson  in  moral  philosophy,  the 
door  opened  and  in  came  Papa.  Such  a  shriek 
as  she  gave !  Miss  Inches  happened  to  be  out, 
and  they  had  the  house  to  themselves  for  a  while. 

"  So  you  are  glad  to  see  me  ? ''  said  Papa, 
when  Johnnie  had  dried  her  eyes  after  the 
violent  fit  of  crying  which  was  his  welcome,  and 
had  raised  her  head  from  his  shoulder.  His 
own  eyes  were  a  little  moist,  but  he  spoke 
gaily. 

'^  Oh,  Papa,  80  glad !  I  was  just  longing  for 
you  to  come.     How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  I  had  business  in  this  part  of  the  world,  and 
I  thought  you  might  be  wanting  your  winter 
clothes." 

Johnnie's  face  fell. 

"  Mu8t  I   stay   all  winter  ? ''  she   said  in   a 


CURLY  LOCKS.  37 

trembling  voice.  "Aren't  you  going  to  take 
me  home  ?  " 

"  But  I  thought  you  wanted  to  be  '  adopted/ 
and  to  go  to  Europe,  and  have  all  sorts  of  fine 
things  happen  to  you." 

"  Oh,  Papa,  don't  tease  me.  Mamma  Marion 
is  ever  so  kind,  but  I  want  to  come  back  and  be 
your  little  girl  again.  Please  let  me.  If  you 
don't,  I  shall  die  — "  and  Johnnie  wrung  her 
hands. 

"  We'll  see  about  it,"  said  Dr.  Carr.  "  Don't 
die,  but  kiss  me  and  wash  your  face.  It  won't 
do  for  Miss  Inches  to  come  home  and  find  you 
with  those  impolite  red  rims  to  your  eyes." 

"  Come  upstairs,  too,  and  see  my  room,  while 
I  wash  'em,"  pleaded  Johnnie. 

All  the  time  that  Johnnie  was  bathing  her 
eyes.  Papa  walked  leisurely  about  looking  at 
the  pictures.     His  mouth  wore  a  furtive  smile. 

"  This  is  a  sweet  thing,"  he  observed,  "  this 
one  with  the  pickled  asparagus  and  the  donkey, 
or  is  it  a  cat  ?  " 


38  A/iVfi"  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

"  Papa  !  it's  a  pig  !  " 

Then  they  both  laughed. 

I  think  there  was  a  little  bit  of  relief  mixed 
with  Miss  Inches'  disappointment  at  hearing  of 
Johnnie's  decision.  The  child  of  theory  was  a 
delightful  thing  to  have  in  the  house,  but  this 
real  child,  with  moods  and  tempers  and  a  will 
of  her  own,  who  preferred  chromos  to  Raphael, 
and  pined  after  "tag,"  tried  her  considerably. 
They  parted,  however,  most  affectionately. 

"  Goodby,  dear  Mamma  Marion,"  whispered 
Johnnie.  -^You've  been  just  as  good  as  good 
to  me,  and  I  love  you  so  much,  —  but  you  know 
1  am  used  to  the  girls  and  Papa." 

"Yes,  dear,  I  know.  You're  to  come  back 
often.  Papa  says,  and  I  shall  call  you  my  girl 
always."  So,  w4th  kisses,  they  separated,  and 
Miss  Inches  went  back  to  her  old  life,  feeling 
that  it  was  rather  comfortable  not  to  be  any 
longer  responsible  for  a  "  young  intelligence," 
and  that  she  should  never  envy  mammas  with 
big  families  of  children  again,  as  once  she  had 
done. 


CURLY  LOCKS.  39 

''  So  weVe  got  our  Curly  Locks  back/'  said 
Katy,  fondly  stroking  Johnnie's  hair,  the  night 
after  the  travellers'  return.  ^^  And  you'll  never 
go  away  from  us  any  more,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Never,  never,  never !  "  protested  Johnnie, 
emphasizing  each  word  by  a  kiss. 

"  Not  even  to  be  adopted,  travel  in  Europe,  or 
speak  Litchfield  Co.  French  ?  "  put  in  naughty 
Clover. 

"  No.  I've  been  adopted  once,  and  that's 
enough.  Now  I'm  going  to  be  Papa's  little  girl 
always,  and  when  the  rest  of  you  get  married 
I  shall  stay  at  home  and  keep  house  for  him." 

"  That's  right,"  said  Dr.  Carr. 


GOOSEY,  GOOSEY  GANDER. 


''But  why 
must  I  go  to 
bed  ?  It  isn't 
time,  and  I'm 
not  sleepy  yet/' 
pleaded  Dickie, 
holding  fast  by  the 
side  of  the  door. 

"  Now,       Dickie, 
don't    be    naughty. 
It's  time  because  I  say  that  it's  time." 

"  Papa  never  tells  me  it's  time  when  it's  light 
like  this,"  argued  Dickie.  "He  doesn't  ever 
send   me   to   bed   till   seven  o'clock.     I'm  not 


GOOSEY,  GOOSEY  GANDER.  41 

going  till  it's  a  great  deal  darker  than  this.  Su 
there,  Mally  Spence." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  are,  Dickie  darling,"  replied 
Mally  coaxingly.  "  The  reason  it's  light  is  be- 
cause the  days  are  so  long  now.  It's  quite  late 
really,  —  almost  seven  o'clock,  —  that  is,"  she 
added  hastily,  "  it's  past  six  (two  minutes  past !), 
and  sister  wants  to  put  Dickie  to  bed,  because 
she's  going  to  take  tea  with  Jane  Foster,  and 
unless  Dick  is  safe  and  sound  she  can't  go. 
Dickie  would  be  sorry  to  make  sister  lose  her 
pleasure,  wouldn't  he?" 

"  I  wiss  you  didn't  want  me  to  go,"  urged 
Dick,  but  he  was  a  sweet-tempered  little  soul, 
so  he  yielded  to  Mally's  gentle  pull,  and  suffered 
her  to  lead  him  in-doors.  Upstairs  they  went, 
past  Mally's  room.  Papa's,  —  up  another  flight  of 
stairs,  and  into  the  attic  chamber  where  Dick 
slept  alone.  It  was  a  tiny  chamber.  The  ceil- 
ing was  low,  and  the  walls  sloped  inward  like 
the  sides  of  a  tent.  It  would  have  been  too 
small  to  hold  a  grown  person  comfortably,  but 


42  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

there  was  room  in  plenty  for  Dickie's  bed^  one 
chair,  and  the  chest  of  drawers  which  held  his 
clothes  and  toys.  One  narrow  window  hghted 
it,  opening  toward  the  West.  On  the  white 
plastered  wall  beside  it,  lay  a  window-shaped 
patch  of  warm  pink  light.  The  light  was  re- 
flected from  the  sunset.  Dickie  had  seen  this 
light  come  and  go  very  often.  He  liked  to 
have  it  there ;  it  was  so  pretty,  he  thought. 

Malvina  undressed  him.  She  did  not  talk  as 
much  as  usual,  for  her  head  was  full  of  the  tea- 
party,  and  she  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  through 
and  be  off.  Dickie,  however,  was  not  the  least 
in  a  hurry.  Slowly  he  raised  one  foot,  then  the 
other,  to  have  his  shoes  untied,  slowly  turned 
himself  that  Mally  might  unfasten  his  apron. 
All  the  time  he  talked.  Mally  thought  she  had 
never  known  him  ask  so  many  questions,  or 
take  so  much  time  about  every  thing. 

"  What  makes  the  wall  pink  ?  "  he  said.  "  It 
never  is  'cept  just  at  bedtime." 

^at's  the  sun." 


GOOSEY,  GOOSEY  GANDER,  43 

"  Why  doesn't  the  sun  make  it  that  color 
always  ?  " 

"  The  sun  is  setting  now.  He  is  not  setting 
always." 

"  That's  an  improper  word.  You  mustn't 
say  it." 

''  What's  an  improper  word  ?  " 

"  Papa  said^  when  I  said  '  setting  on  the  door- 
steps/ that  it  wasn't  proper  to  say  that.  He 
said  I  must  say  sitting  on  the  door  steps." 

"  That  isn't  the  same  thing,  Goosey  Gander/' 
cried  Mally  laughing.  "  The  sun  sets  and  little 
boys  sit." 

"  I'm  not  a  goosey  gander/'  responded  Dickie. 
'^  And  Papa  said  it  wasn't  proper." 

"Never  mind/'  said  Mally,  whipping  on  his 
night-gown :  "  you're  a  darling,  if  you  are  a 
goosey.     Now  say  your  prayers  nicely." 

"  Yes/'  replied  Dick,  dreamily.  He  knelt 
down  and  began  his  usual  prayer.  "  Please, 
God,  bless  Papa  and  Mally  and  Gwandmamma 
and  —  "  "  make  Dick  a  good  boy  "  should  have 


44  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

.  come  next^  but  his  thoughts  wandered.  '^  Why 
don't  the  sun  sit  as  well  as  httle  boys  ?  "  he 
asked. 

^'  Oh^  Dickie,  Dickie  !  "  cried  the  scandalized 
Malvina.  ^^  You're  saying  your  prayers,  you 
know.  Good  children  don't  stop  to  ask  ques- 
tions when  they're  saying  their  prayers." 

Dickie  felt  rebuked.  He  finished  the  little 
prayer  quickly.  Mally  lifted  him  into  bed. 
"  It's  so  warm  that  you  won't  want  this/'  she 
said,  folding  back  the  blanket.  Then  she  stooped 
to  kiss  him. 

"Tell  me  a  story  before  you  go,"  pleaded 
Dickie,  holding  her  tight. 

"  Oh,  not  to-night,  darling,  because  I  shall 
be  late  to  Jane's  if  I  do."  She  kissed  him 
hastily. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  nice  at  all  to  go  to  bod 
when  the  sun  hasn't  sit,  and  I'm  not  sleepy  a 
bit,  and  there  isn't  nothing  to  play  with,"  re- 
marked Dick,  plaintively. 

"  You'll  fall  asleep  in  a  minute  or  two.  Goosey, 


GOOSEY,  GOOSEY  GANDER,  45 

then  you  won't  want  any  thing  to  play  with/' 
said  Mally^  hurrying  away. 

^^  I'm  720^  a  goosey/'  shouted  Dick  after  her. 
Ten  minutes  later,  as  she  was  tying  her  bonnet 
strings,  she  heard  him  calling  from  the  top  of 
the  stairs. 

^^ What  is  it,  Dickie?" 

"I'm  not  a  goose.  Goosies  has  feathers. 
They  say  '  quack.'  " 

"You're  the  kind  that  hasn't  feathers  and 
doesn't  say  quack/'  replied  Mally  from  below. 
"  No,  darling,  you're  not  a  goose ;  you're  Mally's 
good  boy.     Now,  run  back  to  bed." 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  replied  Dick,  satisfied  by  this 
concession.  He  climbed  into  bed  again,  and  lay 
watching  the  pink  patch  on  the  wall.  Yellow 
bars  began  to  appear  and  to  dance  in  the  midst 
of  the  pink, 

"  Like  teeny-weeney  little  ladders,"  thought 
Dick.  There  was  a  ladder  outside  his  door, 
at  top  of  which  was  a  scuttle  opening  on  to 
the  roof.      Dickie  turned  his  head  to  look  at 


46  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

the  ladder.  The  scuttle-door  stood  open ; 
from  above,  the  pink  light  streamed  in  and  lay 
on  the  rungs  of  the  ladder. 

"  I  did  go  up  that  ladder  once/'  soliloquized 
Dick.  "  Papa  took  me.  It  was  velly  nice  up 
there.  I  wiss  Papa  would  take  me  again. 
Mally,  she  said  it  was  dangewous.  I  wonder 
why  she  said  it  was  dangewous  ?  Mally's  a  very 
funny  girl,  I  think.  She  didn't  ought  to  put 
me  to  bed  so  early.  I  can't  go  to  sleep  at  all. 
Perhaps  I  sha'n't  ever  go  to  sleep,  not  till  morn- 
ing, —  then  she'd  feel  sorry. 

"  If  I  was  a  bird  I  could  climb  little  bits  of 
ladders  like  that,"  was  his  next  reflection.  "  Or 
a  fly.  I'd  like  to  be  a  fly,  and  eat  sugar,  and 
say  b-u-z-z-z  all  day  long.  Only  then  perhaps 
some  httle  boy  would  get  me  into  the  corner 
of  the  window  and  squeeze  me  all  up  tight  with 
his  fum."  Dickie  cast  a  rueful  look  at  his  own 
guilty  thumb  as  he  thought  this.  "  I  wouldn't 
I'kc  that!  Bat  I'd  like  very  much  indeed  to 
buzz  and  tickle  Mally's  nose  when  she  was  twy- 


GOOSEY,  GOOSEY  GANDER.  47 

ing  to  sew.  She'd  slap  and  slap,  and  not  hit  me, 
and  I'd  buzz  and  tickle.  Plow  I'd  laugh!  But 
perhaps  flies  don't  know  how  to  laugh,  only  -just 
to  buzz. 

**  *  Pretty,  carious,  buzzy  fly.' 

That's  what  my  book  says." 

The  pink  glow  was  all  gone  now,  and  DicJc 
shifted  his  position. 

"I  WIS8  I  could  go  to  sleep,"  he  thought. 
''  It  isn't  nice  at  all  to  be  up  here  and  not  have 
any  playthings.  Mally's  gone,  else  she'd  get  me 
something  to  amoose  myseK  with.  I'd  like  my 
dwum  best.  It's  under  the  hall  table,  I  guess. 
P'waps  if  I  went  down  I  could  get  it." 

As  this  idea  crossed  his  mind,  Dickie  popped 
quickly  out  of  bed.  The  floor  felt  cool  and 
pleasant  to  his  bare  little  feet  as  he  crossed  to 
the  door.  He  had  almost  reached  the  head  of 
the  stairs  when,  looking  up,  something  so  prett}'' 
met  his  eyes  that  he  stopped  to  admire.  It  was 
a  star,  shining  against  the  pure  sky  like  a  twink- 
ling sUver  lamp.     It  seemed  to  beckon,  and  the 


48  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

ladder  to  lead  straight  up  to  it.  Almost  with- 
out stopping  to  think^  Dickie  put  his  foot  on  the 
first  rung  and  climbed  nimbly  to  the  top  of  the 
ladder.  The  star  was  just  as  much  out  of  reach 
when  he  got  there  as  it  had  been  before^  but 
there  were  other  beautiful  sights  close  at  hand 
which  were  well  worth  the  trouble  of  climbing 
after. 

Miles  and  miles  and  miles  of  sky  for  one  thing. 
It  rose  above  Dickie's  head  like  a  great  blue 
dome  pierced  with  pin-pricks  of  holes,  through 
which  little  points  of  bright  light  quivered  and 
danced.  Far  away  against  the  sky  appeared 
a  church  spire,  like  a  long  sharp  finger  pointing 
to  Heaven.  One  little  star  exactly  above, 
seemed  stuck  on  the  end  of  the  spire.  Dickie 
wondered  if  it  hurt  the  star  to  be  there.  He 
stepped  out  on  to  the  roof  and  wandered  about. 
The  evening  was  warm  and  soft.*  No  dew  fell. 
The  shingles  still  kept  the  heat  of  the  sun,  an  3 
felt  pleasant  and  comfortable  under  his  feet. 
By-and-by  a  splendid  rocker-shaped  moon  came 


GOOSEY,    GOOSEY  GANDER,  49 

from  behind  the  sky's  edge  where  she  had  been 
hiding  away,  and  sailed  slowly  upward.  She 
was  a  great  deal  bigger  than  the  stars,  but  they 
didn't  seem  afraid  of  her  in  the  least.  Dickie 
reflected  that  if  he  were  a  star  he  should  hurry 
to  get  out  of  her  way ;  but  the  stars  didn't  mind 
the  moon's  being  there  at  all,  they  kept  their 
places,  and  shone  calmly  on  as  they  had  done 
before  she  came. 

He  was  standing,  when  the  moon  appeared, 
by  the  low  railing  which  guarded  the  edge  of 
the  roof.  The  railing  was  of  a  very  desirable 
height.  Dickie  could  just  rest  his  chin  on 
top  of  it,  which  was  nice.  Suddenly  a  loud 
"  Maau-w !  "  resounded  from  above.  Dickie 
jumped,  and  gave  his  poor  chin  a  knock  against 
the  raihng.  It  couldn't  be  the  moon,  could  it  ? 
Moons  didn't  make  noises  like  that. 

He  looked  up.  There,  on  the  ridge  pole  of 
the  next  roof,  sat  a  black  cat,  big  and  terrible 
against  the  sky.  "-  Ma-a-uw,"  said  the  cat  again, 
louder  than  before. 

4 


50  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS 

''  Why,  pussy,  what's  the  matter  ? "  cried 
Dick.  His  voice  quavered  a  Httle,  but  he  tried 
to  speak  boldly.  Pussy  was  displeased  at  the 
question.  She  hissed,  put  up  her  back,  swelled 
her  tail  to  a  puff,  and  fled  to  a  distant  part  of 
the  roof,  where,  from  some  hidden  ambush,  Dick 
could  hear  her  scolding  savagely. 

"  She's  a  cwoss  cat,  I  guess,"  he  remarked  phil- 
osophically. "  Why,  this  chimney  is  warm,"  he 
cried,  as  his  arm  touched  the  bricks.  ^^It's 
'cause  there  used  to  be  a  fire  in  there.  But 
there  isn't  any  smoke  coming  out.  I  wonder  if 
all  the  chimneys  are  warm  too,  like  this  one." 

There  was  another  chimney  not  far  off,  and 
Dick  hastened  to  try  the  experiment.  To  do 
this  he  was  obliged  to  chmb  a  railing,  but  it  was 
low  and  easy  to  get  over.  The  sqcond  chimney 
was  cold,  but  a  little  farther  on  appeared  a  third, 
and  Dick  proceeded  to  climb  another  raihng. 

But  before  he  reached  this  third  chimney,  a 
surprising  and  interesting  sight  attracted  his 
attention.     This  was  a  scuttle  door  just  like  the 


GOOSEY,   GOOSEY  GANDER,  51 

one  at  home,  standing  open,  with  a  ladder  lead- 
ing down  into  a  garret  below. 

Dick  peered  over  the  edge  of  the  scuttle. 
There  was  no  little  chamber  in  this  attic  like  his 
at  home.  It  was  all  an  open  space,  crammed 
with  trunks,  furniture,  boxes,  and  barrels.  He 
caught  sight  of  a  rocking-horse  standing  in  a 
corner;  a  rocking-horse  with  a  blue  saddle  on 
his  wooden  back,  and  a  fierce  bristling  mane 
much  in  need  of  brush  and  comb.  Drawn  by 
irresistible  attraction,  Dickie  put,  first  one  foot, 
then  the  other,  over  the  scuttle's  edge,  crept 
down  the  ladder,  and  in  another  moment  stood 
by  the  motionless  steed.  Thick  dust  lay  on 
the  saddle,  on  the  rockers,  and  on  the  stiffly 
stretched-out  tail,  from  which  most  of  the  red 
paint  had  been  worn  away.  It  was  evidently 
a  long  time  since  any  little  boy  had  mounted 
there,  chirruped  to  the  horse,  and  ridden  glori- 
ously away,  pursuing  a  fairy  fox  through  imag- 
mary  fields.  The  eye  of  the  wooden  horse  was 
glazed  and  dim.      Life  had  lost  its  interest  to 


52  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

the  poor  animal^  turned  out,  as  it  were,  to  past- 
ure as  best  he  might  in  the  dull,  silent  garret. 

Dickie  patted  the  red  neck,  a  timid,  affec- 
tionate pat,  but  it  startled  the  horse  a  little, 
for  he  shook  visibly,  and  swayed  to  and  fro. 
There  was  evidently  some  "  go "  left  in  him, 
in  spite  of  his  dejected  expression  of  counte- 
nance. The  shabby  stirrup  hung  at  his  side. 
Dickie  could  just  reach  it  with  his  foot.  He 
seized  the  mane,  and,  pulling  hard,  clambered 
into  the  saddle.  Once  there,  reins  in  hand,  he 
clucked  and  encouraged  the  time-worn  steed  to 
his  best  paces.  To  and  fro,  to  and  fro  they 
swung,  faster,  slower,  Dickie  beating  with  his 
heels,  the  wooden  horse  curveting  and  prancing. 
It  was  famous!  The  dull  thud  of  the  rockers 
echoed  through  the  garret,  and  somebody  sit- 
ting in  the  room  below  raised  his  head  to  listen 
to  the  strange  sound. 

This  somebody  was  an  old  man  with  white 
hair  and  a  gray,  stern  face,  who  sat  beside  a 
table  on  which  were  paper  and  lighted  candles. 


GOOSEY,  GOOSEY  GANDER.  53 

A  letter  lay  before  him,  but  he  was  not  reading 
it.  When  the  sound  of  the  rocking  began,  he 
started  and  turned  pale.  A  little  boy  once 
used  to  rock  in  that  way  in  the  garret  over- 
head, but  it  was  long  ago,  and  for  many  years 
past  the  garret  had  been  silent  and  deserted. 
"  Harry's  horse !  "  muttered  the  old  man  with 
a  look  of  fear  as  he  heard  the  sound.  He  half 
rose  from  his  chair,  then  he  sat  down  again. 
But  soon  the  noise  ceased.  Dickie  had  caught 
sight  of  another  thing  in  the  garret  which  in- 
terested him,  and  had  dismounted  to  examine  it. 
The  old  man  sank  into  his  chair  again  with  a 
look  of  relief,  muttering  something  about  the 
wind. 

The  thing  which  Dickie  had  gone  to  examine 
was  a  little  arm-chair  cushioned  with  red.  It 
was  just  the  size  for  him,  and  he  seated  himself 
ill  it  with  a  look  of  great  satisfaction. 

"  I  wiss  this  chair  was  mine,"  he  said.  "  P'waps 
Mally'U  let  me  take  it  home  if  I  ask  her." 

A  noise  below  attracted  hjis   attention.     Ho 


54  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

peeped  over  the  balusters  and  saw  an  elderly 
woman^  with  a  candle  in  her  hand,  coming  up 
from  the  lower  story  She  went  into  a  room  at 
the  foot  of  the  attic  stair,  leaving  the  door  open. 
"  Hester !  Hester !  "  called  a  voice  from  below. 
The  woman  came  from  the  room  and  went  down 
again.  She  did  not  take  the  candle  with  her : 
Dick  could  see  it  shining  through  the  open  door. 
Like  a  little  moth  attracted  by  a  flame,  Dick 
wandered  down  the  stair  in  the  direction  of  the 
light.  The  candle  was  standing  on  the  table  in 
a  bedroom,  —  a  pretty  room,  Dickie  thought, 
though  it  did  not  seem  as  if  anybody  could 
have  lived  in  it  lately.  He  didn't  know  why 
this  idea  came  into  his  mind,  but  it  did.  It  was 
a  girl's  bedroom,  for  a  small  blue  dress  hung  on 
the  wall,  and  on  the  bureau  were  brushes,  combs, 
and  hair-pins.  Beside  the  bureau  was  a  wooden 
shelf  full  of  books.  A  bird-cage  swung  in  the 
window,  but  there  was  no  bird  in  it,  and  the 
seed  glass  and  water  cup  were  empty.  The 
narrow  bed  had  a  white  coverlid  and  a  great 


GOOSEY,   GOOSEY   GANDER,  55 

white  pillow.  It  looked  all  ready  for  somebody, 
but  it  was  years  since  the  girl  who  once  owned 
the  room  had  slept  there.  The  old  housekeeper, 
who  still  loved  the  girl,  came  every  day  to  dust 
and  smooth  and  air  and  sweep.  She  kept  all 
things  in  their  places  just  as  they  used  to  be  in 
the  former  time,  but  she  could  not  give  to  the 
room  the  air  of  life  which  once  it  had,  and,  do 
what  she  would,  it  looked  deserted  always  — 
empty  —  and  dreary. 

On  the  chimney-piece  were  ranged  a  row  of 
toys,  plaster  cats,  barking  dogs,  a  Noah's  ark, 
and  an  enormous  woolly  lamb.  This  last  struck 
Dick  with  admiration.  He  stood  on  tip-toe  with 
his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back  to  examine  it. 

"  Oh,  dear,"  he  sighed,  ''  I  wiss  I  had  that 
lamb."  Then  he  gave  a  jump,  for  close  to  him, 
in  a  small  chair,  he  saw  what  seemed  to  be  a 
little  girl,  staring  straight  at  him. 

It  was  a  big,  beautiful  doll,  in  a  dress  of  faded 
pink,  and  a  pink  hat  and  feather.  Dick  had 
never  seen  such  a  fine  lady  before;  she  quite 


56  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

fascinated  him.  He  leaned  gently  forward  and 
touched  the  waxen  hand.  It  was  cold  and 
clamni}  ;  Di(*.k  did  not  like  the  feel^  and  re- 
treated. The  unwinking  eyes  of  the  doll  fol- 
lowed him  as  he  sidled  away,  and  made  him 
uncomfortable. 

In  the  opposite  room  the  old  man  still  sat  with 
his  letter  before  him.  The  letter  was  from  the 
girl  who  once  played  with  the  big  doll  and  slept 
in  the  smooth  white  bed.  She  was  not  a  child 
now.  Years  before  she  had  left  her  father's 
house  against  his  will,  and  in  company  with  a 
person  he  did  not  like.  He  had  said  then  that 
he  should  never  forgive  her,  and  till  now  she 
had  not  asked  to  be  forgiven.  It  was  a  long 
time  since  he  had  known  any  thing  about  her. 
Nobody  ever  mentioned  her  name  in  his  hear- 
mg,  not  even  the  old  housekeeper  who  loved 
her  still,  and  never  went  to  bed  without  pray- 
ing that  Miss  Ellen  might  one  day  come  back. 
Now  Ellen  had  written  to  her  father.  The 
letter  lay  on  the  table. 


GOOSEY,   GOOSEY  GANDER.  57 

^'  I  was  wrong/'  she  wrote,  ''  but  I  have  been 
punished.  We  have  suffered  much.  My  hus- 
band is  dead.  I  will  not  speak  of  him,  for  I 
know  that  his  name  will  anger  you ;  but,  fatlier, 
I  am  alone,  ill,  and  very  poor.  Can  you  not  for- 
give me  now  ?  Do  not  think  of  me  as  the  wild, 
reckless  girl  who  disobeyed  you  and  brought 
sorrow  to  your  life.  I  am  a  weary,  sorrowful 
woman,  longing,  above  all  other  things,  to  be 
pardoned  before  I  die,  —  to  come  home  again  to 
the  house  where  all  my  happy  years  were  spent. 
Let  me  come,  father.  My  little  Hester,  named 
after  our  dear  nurse,  mine  and  Harry's,  is  a 
child  whom  you  would  love.  She  is  like  me  as 
I  used  to  be,  but  far  gentler  and  sweeter  than  ] 
ever  was.  Let  me  put  her  in  your  arms.  Le : 
me  feel  that  I  am  forgiven  for  my  great  fault, 
and  I  will  bless  you  every  day  that  I  live. 
Dear  father,  say  yes.     Your  penitent  Elj.en." 

Two  anp:els  stood  behind  the  old  man  as  he 
read  this  letter.  He  did  not  see  them,  but  he 
heard  their  voices  as  first  one  and  then  the 
other  bent  and  whispered  in  his  ear. 


58  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

^^  Listen/'  murmured  the  white  angel  with 
radiant  moonlit  wings.  "  Listen.  You  loved 
her  once  so  dearly.  You  love  her  still.  I 
know  you  do." 

^^No/'  breathed  the  darker  angel.  ^^You 
swore  that  you  would  not  forgive  her.  Keep 
3"0ur  word.  You  always  said  that  she  would 
come  back  as  soon  as  she  was  poor  or  unhappy, 
or  that  scamp  treated  her  badly.  It  makes  no 
difference  in  the  facts.  Let  her  suffer ;  it  serves 
her  right." 

"Remember  what  a  dear  child  she  used  to 
be/'  said  the  fair  angel,  "  so  bright,  so  loving. 
How  she  used  to  dance  about  the  house  and 
sing ;  the  sun  seemed  to  shine  always  when  she 
came  into  the  room.  She  loved  you  truly  then. 
Her  little  warm  arms  were  always  about  your 
neck.     She  loves  you  still." 

"  What  is  love  worth,"  came  the  other  voice, 
"  when  it  deceives  and  hurts  and  betrays  ?  All 
these  long  years  you  have  suffered.  It  is  her 
turn  now." 


GOOSEY,   GOOSEY   GANDER.  59 

^^  Remember  that  it  was  partly  your  fault/' 
wliispered  the  spirit  of  good.  ''  You  were  harsh 
and  stern.  You  did  not  appeal  to  her  love^  but 
to  her  obedience.  She  had  a  high  spirit ;  you 
forgot  that.     And  she  was  only  sixteen." 

"  Quite  old  enough  to  know  better/'  urged 
the  spirit  of  evil.  "  Remember  the  hard  life  you 
have  led  ever  since.  The  neighbors  speak  of 
you  as  a  stern,  cruel  man;  the  little  children 
run  away  when  you  appear.  Whose  fault  is 
that?     Hers.     She  ought  to  pay  for  it." 

"  Think  of  the  innocent  child  who  never  did 
you  wrong,  and  who  suffers  too.  Think  of  the 
dear  Lord  who  forgives  your  sins.  Pray  to  him. 
He  will  help  you  to  forgive  her/' — urged  the 
good  angel,  but  in  fainter  tones,  for  the  black 
angi.l  spoke  louder,  and  thrust  between  with  his 
fierce  voice. 

"  The  thing  is  settled.  Why  talk  of  prayer 
or  pardon?     Let  her  go  her  way." 

As  this  last  whisper  reached  his  ear  the  old 
man  raised  his  bent  head.     A  hard,  vindictive 


60  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

look  was  in  his  eyes.  He  seized  the  letter  and 
tore  it  in  two.  ^^  Alas  !  alas  !  "  sighed  the  sweet 
angel^  while  the  evil  one  rejoiced  and  waved  his 
dark  wings  in  triumph. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Dickie,  attracted 
by  the  rustle  of  paper,  appeared  at  the  door. 
His  eyes  were  beginning  to  droop  a  Httle.  He 
rubbed  them  hard  as  he  crossed  the  entry.  The 
pit-pat  of  his  bare  feet  made  no  sound  on  the 
carpeted  floor,  so  that  the  old  man  had  no  warn- 
ing of  his  presence  till,  turning,  he  saw  the 
little  night-gowned  figure  standing  motionless 
in  the  door-way. 

He  sprang  from  his  chair  and  stretched  out 
his  hands.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  no  voice 
came  at  first  \  then  in  a  hoarse  whisper  he  said, 
—  ^^ Harry  —  is  it  you?     Ellen — '' 

Dickie,  terrified,  fled  back  into  the  hall  as  if 
shod  with  wings.  In  one  moment  he  was  in 
the  attic,  up  the  ladder,  on  the  roof.  The  old 
man  ran  blindly  after  him. 

"  Come  back,  Ellen  —  come  back !  "  he  cried. 


GOOSEY,    GOOSEY  GANDER,  61 

''  I  will  forgive  you,  —  come  back  to  your  poor 
old  father,  dear  child."  His  foot  slipped  as  he 
spoke.  It  was  at  t}ie  stair-head.  He  fell  for- 
ward heavily,  and  lump,  bump,  bump,  down 
stairs  he  tumbled,  and  landed  heavily  in  the 
hall  below. 

Hester  and  the  housemaid  ran  hastily  from 
the  kitchen  at  the  sound  of  the  fall.  When 
they  saw  the  old  man  lying  in  a  heap  at  the 
foot  of  the  stair,  they  were  terribly  frightened. 
Blood  was  on  his  face.  He  was  quite  uncon- 
scious. 

"  He  is  dead.  Mr.  Kirton  is  dead !  "  cried  the 
housemaid,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  No,  —  his  heart  beats,"  said  Hester.  ''  Eun 
for  Doctor  Foster,  Hannah,  and  ask  Eichard 
Wallis  to  come  at  once  and  help  me  lift  the 
poor  old  gentleman." 

Hannah  flew  to  do  this  errand.  A  moment 
after,  Mr.  Kirton  opened  his  eyes. 

"  Where  is  EUen  ?  "  he  said.  Then  he  shut 
them  again.     Hester  glanced  at  the  torn  letter, 


62  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

which  through  all  his  fall  the  old  man  had  held 
lightly  clasped  in  his  hand,  and  gave  a  loud  cry. 

''  Miss  Ellen,  come  back ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"My  own  Miss  Ellen.  God  has  heard  my 
prayers." 

When  Mr.  Kirton's  senses  returned,  late  m 
the  night,  he  found  himseK  in  his  own  bed. 
His  head  felt  strangely ;  one  arm  was  tied  up  in 
a  queer  stiff  bandage,  so  that  he  could  not  move 
it.  A  cloth  wet  with  water  lay  on  his  forehead. 
When  he  stirred  and  groaned,  a  hand  lifted  the 
cloth,  dipped  it  in  ice-water,  and  put  it  back 
again  fresh  and  cool.  He  looked  up.  Some 
one  was  bending  over  him,  some  one  with  a  face 
which  he  knew  and  did  not  know.  It  puzzled 
him  strangely.  At  last,  a  look  of  recognition 
came  into  his  eyes.  "  Ellen  ?  "  he  said,  in  a 
tone  of  question. 

"  Yes,  dear  father,  it  is  I." 

"  Why  did  you  come  dressed  as  a  little  child 
to  frighten  me  ?  You  are  a  woman,"  he  said 
wonderingly ;  "  your  hair  is  gray  !  " 


GOOSEY,   GOOSEY   GANDER.  63 

^'  I  did  not  come  as  a  little  child,  father.  I 
am  an  old  woman  now.  I  have  come  to  be  j^our 
nurse." 

"  I  don't  understand/'  muttered  the  old  man, 
but  he  asked  no  more,  and  presently  dropped 
asleep.  Ellen  watched  him  for  a  long  time, 
then  she  went  across  the  hall  to  her  old  room, 
where  Hester  stood  looking  at  a  little  girl,  who 
lay  on  the  bed  sleeping  soundly,  with  the  pink 
doll  hugged  tight  in  her  arms. 

"She  is  just  hke  yourself.  Miss  Ellen,"  said 
Hester,  with  joyful  tears  in  her  eyes,  —  "just 
like  your  old  self,  with  a  thought  more  brown 
in  the  hair.  Ah  !  good  times  have  begun  again 
for  my  poor  old  master;  the  light  has  come 
back  to  the  house." 

But  neither  Hester  nor  Ellen  saw  the  wliite- 
robed  angel,  who  bent  over  the  old  man's  bed 
with  a  face  of  immortal  joy,  and  sang  low  songs 
of  peace  to  make  sleep  deep  and  heahng.  The 
dark  spirit  has  fled  away. 

Meantime  Dickie,  imconscious  messenger  of 


64  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS 

Fate,  scrambling  easily  over  the  roofs,  had 
gained  his  own  room,  and  was  comfortably 
tucked  up  in  his  little  bed.  His  dreams  were 
of  dolls,  rocking-horses,  black  cats.  So  soundly 
did  h^  sleep,  that,  when  morning  came,  Mally 
had  to  snake  him  and  call  loudly  in  his  ear 
before  she  could  wake  him  up. 

"  Why,  Dick ! "  she  cried,  "  look  at  your 
night-gown.  It's  all  over  dust,  and  there  are 
one  —  two  —  three  tears  in  the  cotton.  What 
have  you  been  doing  ?  " 

But  Dickie  could  not  tell. 

"  I  dweamed  that  I  walked  about  on  the  woof/' 
he  said.     "  But  I  guess  I  didn't  weally,  did  I  ?  " 


LITTLE    BO    PEEP. 

The  sun  was  setting  at  the  end  of  an  August 
day.  Everybody  was  glad  to  see  the  last  of 
him,  for  the  whole  world  felt  scorched  and  hot, 
—  the  ground,  the  houses,  —  even  the   ponds 


66  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

looked  warm  as  they  stretched  in  the  steaming 
distance.  On  the  edge  of  the  horizon  the  sun 
winked  with  a  red  eye,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Don't  flatter  yourselves,  I  shall  be  back  again 
soon;"  then  he  slowly  sank  out  of  sight.  It 
was  comforting  to  have  him  go,  if  only  for  a 
little  while.  ^^  Perhaps,"  thought  the  people, 
"  a  thunder-storm  or  something  may  come 
along  before  morning,  and  cool  him  off." 

Little  Mell  Davis  was  as  glad  as  anybody 
when  the  sun  disappeared.  It  had  been  a  hard 
day.  Her  step-mother  had  spent  it  in  making 
soap.  Soap-making  is  ill-smelling,  uncomfort- 
able work  at  all  times,  and  especially  in  August. 
Mrs.  Davis  had  been  cross  and  fractious,  had 
scolded  a  great  deal,  and  found  many  little  jobs 
for  MeU  to  do  in  addition  to  her  usual  tasks  of 
dish-washing,  table-setting,  and  looking  after 
the  children.  MeU  was  tired  of  the  heat ;  tired 
of  the  smell  of  soap,  of  being  lectured  ;  and  when 
sapper  was  over  was  very  glad  to  sit  at  peace 
on  the  door-steps  and  read  her  favorite  book,  a 


'      LITTLE    BO    PEEP.  67 

tattered  copy  of  the  Fairy  Tales.  Soon  she 
forgot  the  trials  of  the  day.  "  Once  upon  a 
time  there  hved  a  beautiful  Princess/'  she  read, 
but  just  then  came  a  sharp  call.  "Mell,  Mell, 
you  tiresome  girl,  see  what  Tommy  is  about ;  " 
and  Mrs.  Davis,  dashing  past,  snatched  Tommy 
away  from  the  pump-handle,  which  he  was  ply- 
ing vigorously  for  the  benefit  of  his  small  sis- 
ters, who  stood  in  a  row  under  the  spout,  all 
dripping  wet.  Tommy  was  wetter  still,  having 
impartially  pumped  on  himself  first  of  all. 
Frocks,  aprons,  jacket,  all  were  soaked,  shoes 
and  stockings  were  drenched,  the  long  pig  tails 
of  the  girls  streamed  large  drops,  as  if  they  had 
been  little  rusty-colored  water-pipes. 

'^  Look  at  that ! "  cried  Mrs.  Davis,  exhibit 
ing  the  half -drowned  brood.  "  You  might  as 
well  be  deaf  and  blind,  Mell,  for  any  care  you 
^ake  of  'em.  Give  you  a  silly  book  to  read, 
and  the  children  might  perish  before  your  eyes 
for  all  you'd  notice.  Look  at  Isaphine,  and 
Gabella  Sarah.     Little  lambs,  —  as  likely  as  not 


68  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLLVOS. 

they've  taken  their  deaths.  It  shan't  happen 
again,  though.  Give  me  that  book  —  "  And, 
snatching  Mell's  treasure  from  her  hands,  Mrs. 
Davis  flung  it  into  the  fire.  It  flamed,  shriv- 
elled :  the  White  Cat,  Cinderella,  Beauty 
and  the  Beast,  —  all,  all  were  turned  in  one 
moment  into  a  heap  of  unreadable  ashes !  Mell 
gave  one  clutch,  one  scream;  then  she  stood 
quite  still,  with  a  hard,  vindictive  look  on  her 
face,  which  so  provoked  her  step-mother  that 
she  gave  her  a  slap  as  she  hurried  the  children 
upstairs.  Mrs.  Davis  did  not  often  slap  Mell. 
"  I  punish  my  own  children,"  she  would  say, 
''  not  other  people's."  "  Other  people's  chil- 
dren "  meant  poor  Mell. 

It  was  not  a  very  happy  home,  this  of  the 
Davis's.  Mell's  father  was  captain  of  a  whaler, 
and  almost  always  at  sea.  It  was  three  years 
now  since  he  sailed  on  his  last  voyage.  No 
word  had  come  from  him  for  a  great  many 
months,  and  his  wife  was  growing  anxious 
This  did  not  sweeten  her  temper,  for  in  case  he 


LITTLE    BO   PEEP.  69 

never  returned,  Mell's  would  be  another  back  to 
clothe,  another  mouth  to  fill,  when  food,  perhaps, 
would  not  be  easily  come  by.  Mell  was  not 
anxious  about  her  father.  She  was  used  to 
having  him  absent.  In  fact,  she  seldom  thought 
of  him  one  way  or  another.  If  Mrs.  Davis  had 
been  kinder,  and  had  given  her  more  time  to 
read  the  Fairy  Tales,  she  would  have  been  quite 
a  happy  little  girl,  for  she  lived  in  dreams,  and 
it  did  not  take  much  to  content  her.  Half  her 
time  was  spent  in  a  sort  of  inward  play  which 
never  came  out  in  words.  Sometimes  in  these 
plays  she  was  a  Princess  with  a  gold  crown,  and 
a  delightful  Prince  making  love  to  her  all  day 
long.  Sometimes  she  kept  a  candy-shop,  and 
lived  entirely  on  sugar-almonds  and  sassafras- 
stick.  These  plays  were  so  real  to  her  mind 
that  it  seemed  as  if  they  Tnust  some  day  come 
true.  Her  step-mother  and  the  children  did  not 
often  figure  in  them,  though  once  in  a  while  she 
made  beheve  that  they  were  all  changed  into 
agreeable  people,  and    shared  her  good  luck. 


70  NINE   LITTLE    GOSLINGS, 

There  was  one  thing  in  the  house,  however, 
which  invariably  took  part  in  her  visions.  This 
was  a  large  wooden  chest  with  brass  handles 
which  stood  upstairs  in  Mrs.  Davis's  room,  and 
was  always  kept  locked. 

Mell  had  never  seen  the  inside  of  this  chest 
but  once.  Then  she  caught  glimpses  of  a  red 
shawl,  of  some  coral  beads  in  a  box,  and  of  vari- 
ous interesting  looking  bundles  tied  up  in  paper. 
"  How  beautiful ! "  she  had  cried  out  eagerly, 
whereupon  Mrs.  Davis  had  closed  the  lid  .with  a 
snap,  and  locked  it,  looking  quite  vexed.  "  What 
is  it  ?  Are  all  those  lovely  things  yours  ?  '* 
asked  Mell,  and  she  had  been  bidden  to  hold 
her  tongue,  and  see  if  the  kitchen  fire  didn't 
need  another  stick  of  wood.  It  was  two  years 
since  this  happened.  Mell  had  never  seen  the 
lid  raised  since,  but  every  day  she  had  played 
about  the  big  chest  and  its  contents. 

Sometimes  she  played  that  the  chest  belonged 
to  the  beautiful  Princess,  and  was  full  of  her 
clothes   and  jewels.     Sometimes   a  fairy  lived 


LITTLE  BO    PEEP,  71 

there,  who  popped  out,  wand  in  hand,  and  made 
things  over  to  Mell's  liking.  Again,  Mell  played 
that  she  locked  her  step-mother  np  into  the 
chest,  and  refused  to  release  her  till  she  pro- 
mised never,  never  again,  so  long  as  she  lived,  to 
Bcold  about  any  thing.  Mrs.  Davis  would  have 
been  very  vexed  had  she  known  about  these 
plays.  It  made  her  angry  if  Mell  so  much  as 
glanced  at  the  chest.  "  There  you  are  again, 
peeping,  peeping,"  she  would  cry,  and  drive 
Mell  before  her  downstairs. 

So  this  evening,  after  the  burning  of  the 
book,  Mell's  sore  and  angry  fancies  flew  as  usual 
to  the  chest.  '^  It's  so  big,"  she  thought,  "  that 
all  the  children  could  get  into  it.  I'll  play  that 
a  wicked  enchanter  came  and  flew  away  with 
mother,  and  never  let  her  come  back.  Then  I 
should  have  to  take  care  of  the  children ;  and 
rd  get  somebody  to  nail  some  boards,  so  as  to 
make  five  dear  little  cubby-houses  inside  the 
chest.  I'd  put  Tommy  in  one,  Isaphine  in 
another,  Arabella  Jane  in  another,  Belinda  in 


72  NINE  LTTTLE  GOSLINGS. 

another^  and  Gabella  Sarah  in  another.  Then 
I'd  shut  the  hd  down  and  fasten  it,  and  wouldn't 
I  have  a  good  time  !  When  dinner  was  ready 
I'd  fetch  a  plate  and  spoon,  feed  'em  all  round, 
and  shut  'em  up  again.  It  would  be  just  the 
same  when  I  washed  their  faces  ;  I'd  just  take  a 
wet  cloth  and  do  'em  all  with  a  couple  of  scrubs. 
They  couldn't  get  into  mischief  I  suppose  in 
there.  Yet  I  don't  know.  Tommy  is  so  bad 
that  he  would  if  he  could.  Let  me  see,  —  what 
could  he  do  ?  If  he  had  a  gimlet  he'd  bore 
holes  in  the  boards,  and  stick  pins  through  to 
make  the  others  cry.  I  must  be  sure  to  see  if 
he  has  any  gimlets  in  his  pocket  before  I  put 
him  in.     Oh,  dear,  I  hope  I  shan't  forget !  " 

Mell  was  so  absorbed  in  these  visions  that  she 
did  not  hear  the  gate  open,  and  when  a  hand 
was  suddenly  laid  on  her  shoulder  she  gave  a 
little  cry  and  a  great  jump.  A  tall  man  had 
come  in,  and  was  standing  close  to  hc^r. 

"  Does  Mrs.  Captain  Davis  hve  here  ?  "  asked 
the  tall  man. 


LITTLE   BO    PEEP.  73 

"  Yes,"  said  Mell,  staring  at  him  with  her  big 
eyes. 

"  Is  she  to  home  ?  " 

"  Yes/'  said  Mell  again.  ''  She's  in  there/' 
pointing  to  the  kitchen. 

The  tall  man  stepped  over  Mell,  and  went  in. 
Mell  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  and  grew  curi- 
ous. She  peeped  in  at  the  door.  Her  step- 
mother was  folding  a  letter.  She  looked  vexed 
about  something. 

"  What  time  shall  you  start  ?  "  she  said. 

^^  Half-past  five/'  replied  the  man.  "  I've  my 
hands  to  pay  at  ten,  and  the  weather's  so  hot 
it's  best  to  get  off  early." 

"  I  suppose  I  must  go,"  went  on  Mrs.  Davis, 
"  though  I'd  rather  be  whipped  than  do  it.  You 
can  stop  if  you've  a  mind  to  :  I'll  be  ready." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  man.  "You  haven't 
got  a  drink  of  cider  in  the  house,  have  you  ? 
This  dust  has  made  me  as  dry  as  a  chip." 

"  Mell,  run  down  cellar  and  fetch  some,"  said 
Mrs.  Davis.     "  It  was  good  cider  once,  but  I'm 


74  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

afraid  it's  pretty  hard  now."  She  bustled  about ; 
brought  doughnuts  and  a  pitcher  of  water.  The 
man  drank  a  glass  of  the  sour  cider  and  went 
away.  Mrs.  Davis  sat  awhile  thinking.  Then 
she  turned  sharply  on  Mell. 

^^I've  got  to  go  from  home  to-morrow  on 
business/'  she  said.  ''  Perhaps  I  shall  be  back  by 
tea-time,  and  perhaps  I  sha'n't.  If  there  was 
anybody  I  could  get  to  leave  the  house  with  1 
would,  but  there  isn't  anybody.  Now^  listen  to 
me,  Mell  Davis.  Don't  you  open  a  book  to-mor- 
row, not  once ;  but  keep  your  eyes  on  the  chil- 
dren, and  see  that  they  don't  get  into  mischief. 
If  they  do,  I  shall  know  who  to  thank  for  it. 
I'll  make  a  batch  of  biscuit  to-night  before  I  go 
to  bed  ;  there's  a  pie  in  the  cupboard,  and  some 
cold  pork,  and  you  can  boil  potatoes  for  the 
children's  breakfast  and  for  dinner.  Are  you 
listening  ?" 

"  Yes'm,"  rephed  Mell. 

"  See  that  the  children  have  their  faces  and 
hands  washed,"  went  on  her  step-mother.     "  Oh, 


LITTLE    BO   PEEP,  75 

deai%  if  you  were  a  different  kind  of  girl  liow 
much  easier  would  it  be !  I  wish  your  father 
would  come  home  and  look  after  his  own  affairs, 
instead  of  my  having  to  leave  things  at  sixes  and 
sevens  and  go  running  round  the  country  hunt- 
ing up  his  sick  relations  for  him." 

"-  Is  it  grandmother  who  is  sick  ?  "  asked  Mell 
timidly.  She  had  never  seen  her  grandmother, 
but  she  had  played  about  her  very  often. 

"  No/'  snapped  Mrs.  Davis.  "^  It's  your 
Uncle  Peter.  Don't  ask  questions ;  it's  none 
of  your  business  who's  sick.  Mind  you  strain 
the  milk  the  first  thing  to-morrow,  and  wring 
out  the  dishcloth  when  you're  through  with  it. 
Oh,  dear,  to  think  that  I  should  have  to  go  !  " 

Mell  crept  to  bed.  She  was  so  very  tired 
that  it  seemed  just  one  moment  before  Mrs. 
Davis  was  shaking  her  arm,  and  calling  her  to 
get  up  at  once,  for  it  was  five  o'clock.  Slowly 
she  unclosed  her  sleepy  eyes.  Sure  enough, 
the  night  was  gone.  A  fiery  red  bar  in  the 
East  showed  that  the  sun  too  was  getting  out 


76  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

of  bed,  and  making  ready  for  a  hot  day's  work. 
Mell  rubbed  her  eyes.  She  wished  that  it  was 
all  a  dream,  from  which  she  had  waked  only  to 
fall  asleep  again.  But  it  was  no  use  playing  at 
dreams  with  Mrs.  Davis  standing  by. 

Mrs.  Davis  was  by  no  means  in  a  humor  for 
play.  People  rarely  are  at  five  in  the  morning. 
She  rushed  about  the  house  like  a  whirlwind, 
giving  Mell  directions,  and  scolding  her  in  ad- 
vance for  all  the  wrong  things  she  was  going  to 
do,  till  the  poor  child  was  completely  stunned 
and  confused.  By  and  by  the  tall  man  appeared 
with  his  wagon.  Mrs.  Davis  got  in  and  drove 
away,  ordering  and  lecturing  till  the  last  mo- 
ment. ^^  What's  the  use  of  telling,  for  you're 
sure  to  get  it  all  wrong,"  were  her  last  words, 
and  Mell  thought  so  too. 

She  walked  back  to  the  house  feeling  stupid 
and  unhappy.  But  the  quiet  did  her  good,  and 
as  gradually  she  realized  that  her  step-mother 
was  actually  gone,  —  gone  for  the  whole  day,  — 
her  spirits  revived,  and  she  began  to  smile  and 


LITTLE    BO    PEEP,  77 

sing  softly  to  herself.  Very  few  little  girls  of 
twelve  would,  I  think,  have  managed  better 
than  Mell  did  for  the  first  half  of  that  morning. 
First  she  got  breakfast,  only  bread  and  milk 
and  baked  potatoes,  but  there  is  a  wrong  as  well 
as  a  right  way  with  even  such  simple  things,  and 
Mell  really  did  all  very  cleverly.  She  swept 
the  kitchen,  strained  the  milk,  wound  the  clock. 
Then,  as  a  sound  of  twittering  voices  began 
above,  she  ran  up  to  the  children,  washed  and 
dressed,  braided  the  red  pig-tails,  and  got  them 
downstairs  successfully,  with  only  one  fight  be- 
tween Tommy  and  Isaphine,  and  a  roaring  fit 
from  Arabella  Jane,  who  was  a  tearful  child. 
After  breakfast,  while  the  little  ones  played  on 
the  door-steps,  she  tidied  the  room,  mended  the 
fire,  washed  plates  and  cups,  and  put  them  away 
in  the  cupboard,  wrung  out  the  dishcloth  accord- 
ing to  orders,  and  hung  it  on  its  nail.  When 
this  was  finished  she  looked  about  with  pride. 
The  children  were  unusually  peaceful ;  alto- 
gether, the  day  promised  well.     "  Mother'll  not 


78  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

say  that  I'm  a  good-for-nothing  girl  this  time/' 
thought  Mell,  and  tried  to  recollect  what  should 
be  done  next. 

The  kerosene  can  caught  her  eye. 

"  111  clean  the  lamp/'  she  said. 

She  had  never  cleaned  the  lamp  before,  but 
had  seen  her  step-mother  do  it  very  often.  First, 
she  took  the  lamp-scissors  from  the  table  drawer 
and  cut  the  wick,  rather  jaggedly,  but  Mell  did 
not  know  that.  Then  she  tipped  the  can  to  fiU 
the  lamp.  Here  the  misfortunes  of  the  day 
began ;  for  the  can  slipped,  and  some  of  the  oil 
was  spilled  on  the  floor.  This  terrified  Mell,  for 
that  kitchen-floor  was  the  idol  of  Mrs.  Davis's 
heart.  It  was  scrubbed  every  day,  and  kept  as 
white  as  snow.  Mell  knew  that  her  step-mother's 
eyes  would  be  keen  as  Blue  Beard's  to  detect  a 
spot;  and,  with  all  the  energy  of  despair,  she 
rubbed  and  scoured  with  soap  and  hot  water. 
It  was  all  in  vain.  The  spot  would  not  come 
out. 

"  I'll  put  a  chair  there,"  thought  Mell.  "  Then 
perhaps  she  won't  see  it  just  at  first." 


LITTLE   BO    PEEP.  79 

"I  want  that  scissors/'  cried  Tommy  from 
the  door. 

"-  You  can't  have  it/'  replied  Mell,  hurrying 
them  into  the  drawer.  "It's  a  bad  scissors, 
Tommy,  all  oily  and  dirty.  Nice  httle  boys 
don't  want  to  play  with  such  dirty  scissors  a,^ 
that." 

"  Yes,  they  do/'  whined  Tommy,  quite  uncon- 
vinced. 

"  Now,  children,"  continued  Mell,  "  I'm  going 
upstairs  to  make  the  beds.  You  must  play  just 
here,  and  not  go  outside  the  gate  till  I  come 
down  again.  I  shall  be  at  the  window,  and  see 
you  all  the  time.  Will  you  promise  to  be  good 
and  do  as  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Es,"  lisped  Gabella  Sarah. 

"  Es,"  said  Isaphine. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  clamored  the  others,  headed  by 
Tommy,  who  was  a  child  of  promise  if  ever 
there  was  one.  All  the  time  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  table  drawer! 

Mell  went  upstairs.     First  into  the  children's 


80  NINE  LITTLE  GDSLINGS. 

room,  then  into  her  own.  She  put  her  head 
out  of  the  window  once  or  twice.  The  children 
were  playing  quietly ;  Tonuny  had  gone  in  for 
something,  they  said.  Last  of  all,  Mell  went 
to  her  step-mother  s  room.  She  had  just  begun 
to  smooth  the  bed,  when  an  astonishing  sight 
caught  her  eyes.  The  hey  was  in  the  loch  of 
the  big  chest! 

Yes,  actually,  the  fairy  treasury,  home  of  so 
many  fancies,  was  left  unlocked !  How  Mrs. 
Davis  came  to  do  so  careless  a  thing  will  never 
be  known,  but  that  she  had  done  so  was  a  fact. 

Mell  thought  at  first  that  her  eyes  deceived 
her.  She  stole  across  the  room  and  touched  the 
key  timidly  with  her  forefinger  to  make  sure. 
Then  she  lifted  the  lid  a  little  way  and  let  it  fall 
again,  looking  over  her  shoulder  as  if  fearing  to 
hear  a  sharp  voice  from  the  stairs.  Next,  grown 
bolder,  she  opened  the  lid  wide.  There  lay  the 
red  shawl,  just  as  she  remembered  it,  the  coral 
beads  in  their  hdless  box,  the  blue  paper  parcels , 
and,  forgetting  all  consequences  in  a  rapture  of 


LITTLE    BO    PEEP.  81 

curiosity,  Mell  sat  down  on  tlie  floor,  lifted  out 
the  red  shawl,  tied  the  coral  beads  round  her 
neck,  and  plunged  boldly  into  the  contents  of 
I  he  big  chest. 

Such  a  delightful  chest  as  it  proved  to  be ! 
Mell  thought  it  a  great  deal  better  than  any 
fairy  tale,  as  one  by  one  she  lifted  out  and 
handled  the  things  which  it  contained.  First 
and  most  beautiful  was  a  parasol.  It  was  cov- 
ered with  faded  pink  silk  trimmed  with  fringe, 
and  had  a  long  white  handle  ending  in  a  curved 
hook.  Mell  had  never  seen  a  parasol  so  fine. 
She  opened  it,  shut  it,  opened  it  again;  she 
held  it  over  her  head  and  went  to  the  glass  to 
see  the  effect.  It  was  gorgeous,  it  was  like  the 
parasols  of  Fairy-land,  Mell  thought.  She  laid  it 
on  the  floor  close  beside  her,  that  she  might  see 
it  all  the  while  she  explored  the  chest. 

Below  the  parasol  was  a  big  paper  box.  Mell 
lifted  the  lid.  A  muff  and  tippet  lay  inside, 
made  of  yellow  and  brown  fur  like  the  back 
of  a  tortoise-shell  cat.     These   were  beautiful^ 


82  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

too.  Then  came  rolls  of  calico  and  woollen 
pieces,  some  of  which  were  very  pretty,  and 
would  make  nice  doll's  dresses,  Mell  thought. 

A  newspaper  parcel  next  claimed  her  atten- 
tion. It  held  an  old-fashioned  work-bag  made 
of  melon  seeds  strung  on  wire,  and  lined  with 
green.  Mell  admired  this  exceedingly,  and 
pinned  it  to  her  waist.  Then  she  found  a  fan 
of  white  feathers  with  pink  sticks.  This  was 
most  charming  of  all.  Mell  fanned  herself  a 
long  time.  She  could  not  bear  to  put  it  away. 
Princesses,  she  thought,  must  use  fans  like  that. 
On  the  paper  which  wrapped  the  fan  was  some- 
tiling  written  in  pencil.  Mell  spelled  it  out. 
"  For  my  little  Melicent  "  was  what  the  writing 
said. 

Was  the  fan  really  hers  ?  Perhaps  the  para- 
sol was  hers  too,  the  coral  beads,  the  muff  and 
tippet!  All  sorts  of  delightful  possibilities 
whirled  through  her  brain,  as  she  tossed  and 
tumbled  the  parcels  in  the  chest  out  on  to  the 
floor.      More  bundles  of  pieces,  some  knitting- 


LITTLE    BO    PEEP.  83 

needles,  an  old-fashioned  pair  of  bellows  (Mell 
did  not  know  what  these  were),  a  book  or  two, 
a  package  of  snuff,  which  flew  up  into  her  face 
and  made  her  sneeze.  Then  an  overcoat  and 
some  men's  clothes  folded  smoothly.  Mell  did 
not  care  for  the  overcoat,  but  there  were  two 
dresses  pinned  in  towels  which  delighted  her. 
One  was  purple  muslin,  the  other  faded  blue 
silk ;  and  again  she  found  her  own  name  pinned 
on  the  towel,  —  "  For  my  little  Mell."  A  faint 
pleasant  odor  came  from  the  folds  of  the  blue 
silk  dress.  Mell  searched  the  pocket,  and  found 
there  a  Tonquin  bean,  screwed  up  in  a  bit  of 
paper.  It  was  the  Tonquin  bean  which  had 
made  the  dress  smell  so  pleasantly.  Mell 
pressed  the  folds  close  to  her  nose.  She  was 
fond  of  perfumes,  and  this  seemed  to  her  the 
most  delicious  thing  she  ever  smelt. 

Suddenly  the  clock  downstairs  struck  some- 
thing very  long,  and  Mell,  waking  up  as  it  were, 
recollected  that  it  was  a  good  while  since  she 
had  heard  any  sounds  from  the  children  in  the 


84  NL'^E   LITTLE    GOSLINGS, 

yard.  She  jumped  up  and  ran  to  the  window. 
No  children  were  there. 

"  Children,  children,  where  are  you  ? "  she 
called;  but  nobody  answered. 

"Tiresome  little  things/'  thought  Mell. 
"They've  gone  round  to  the  pump  again.  I 
must  hurry,  or  they  will  be  all  sopping  wet." 
She  seized  the  parasol,  which  she  could  not  bear 
to  part  with,  and,  leaving  the  other  things  on 
the  floor,  ran  downstairs.  The  red  shawl,  which 
had  been  lying  in  her  lap,  trailed  after  her  as 
far  as  the  kitchen,  and  then  fell,  but  Mell  did 
not  notice  it. 

"  What ! "  she  cried,  looking  at  the  clock, 
"  noon  already !  Why,  where  has  the  morning 
gone  to  ?  " 

Where  had  the  children  gone  to  ?  was  an- 
other question.  Back  yard,  side  yard,  front 
yard,  cellar,  shed,  Mell  searched.  There  were 
no  small  figures  ranged  about  the  pump,  no 
voices  replied  to  her  calls,  Mell  ran  to  the  gate. 
She  strained  her  eyes  down  the  road,  this  way, 


LITTLE   BO   PEEP,  85 

that  way ;  not  a  sign  of  the  little  flock  was  visible 
in  any  direction. 

Now  Mell  was  frightened.  "What  will 
mother  say  ?  "  she  thought,  and  began  to  run 
distractedly  along  the  road,  crying  and  sobbing 
as  she  went,  and  telling  herself  that  it  wasn't 
her  fault,  that  she  only  went  upstairs  to  make 
the  beds,  —  but  here  her  conscience  gave  a  great 
prick.  It  was  but  ten  o'clock  when  she  went 
upstairs  to  make  the  beds! 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  she  sobbed.  "  If  only  Tommy 
isn't  drowned  !  "  Drowning  came  into  her  head 
first,  because  her  step-mother  was  always  in  an 
agony  about  the  pond.  The  pond  was  a  mile 
off  at  least,  but  Mrs.  Davis  never  let  the  children 
even  look  that  way  if  she  could  help  it. 

Toward  the  pond  poor  Mell  bent  her  way; 
for  she  thought  as  Tommy  had  been  strictly  for- 
bidden to  go  there,  it  was  probably  the  very 
road  he  had  taken.  The  sun  beat  on  her  head 
and  she  put  up  the  parasol,  which  through  all 
her  trouble  she  had  grasped  firmly  in  her  hand. 


86  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS^ 

Even  under  these  dreadful  circumstances^  with 
the  children  lost^  and  the  certainty  of  her  step- 
mother's wrath  before  her,  there  was  joy  in 
carrjdng  a  parasol  like  that. 

By  and  by  she  met  a  farmer  with  a  yoke 
of  oxen. 

"^  Oh,  please/'  said  Mell,  "  have  you  seen  five 
children  going  this  way,  —  four  girls  and  one 
little  boy  ?  " 

The  farmer  hummed  and  hawed.  "  I  did  see 
some  children,"  he  said  at  last.  "  It  was  a 
good  piece  back,  nearly  an  hour  ago,  I  reckon. 
They  was  making  for  the  pond  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  sighed  Mell.  She  thanked  the 
farmer,  and  ran  on  faster  than  ever. 

"Have  you  passed  any  children  on  this 
road  ?  "  she  demanded  of  a  boy  with  a  wheel- 
barrow, who  was  the  next  person  she  met. 

"  Boys  or  girls  ?  " 

"  One  boy  and  four  girls." 

^'  Do  they  belong  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they're  my  brothers  and  sisters,"  said 
Mell.     "  Where  did  you  see  them  ?  " 


LITTLE   BO    PEEP.  87 

"  Haven't  seen  'em/'  replied  the  boy.  He 
grinned  as  he  spoke^  seized  his  barrow,  and 
wheeled  rapidly  away. 

Mell's  tears  broke  forth  afresh.  What  a 
horrid  boy! 

The  pond  was  very  near  now.  It  was  a 
large  pond.  There  were  hills  on  one  side  of 
it ;  on  the  other  the  shore  was  low,  and  covered 
with  thick  bushes.  In  and  out  among  these 
bushes  went  Mell,  hunting  for  her  lost  flock. 
It  was  green  and  shady.  Flowers  grew  here 
and  there  ;  bright  berries  hung  on  the  boughs 
above  her  head;  birds  sang;  a  saucy  squirrel 
ran  to  the  end  of  a  branch,  and  chippered  to 
her  as  she  passed.  But  Mell  saw  none  of  these 
things.  She  was  too  anxious  and  unhappy  to 
enjoy  what  on  any  other  day  would  have  been 
a  great  pleasure;  and  she  passed  the  flowers, 
the  berries,  and  the  chattering  squirrel  un- 
heeded by. 

No  signs  of  the  children  appeared,  till  at  last, 
in  a  marshy  place,  a  small  shoe  was  seen  stick- 


88  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

ing  in  the  mud.  Belinda's  shoe  !  Mell  knew 
it  in  a  minute. 

She  picked  up  the  shoe^  wiped  the  mud  from 
it  with  a  tuft  of  dried  grass^  and,  carrying  it  in 
her  hand,  went  forward.  She  was  on  the  track 
now,  and  here  and  there  prints  of  small  feet  in 
the  earth  guided  her.  She  called  "  Tommy ! 
Isaphine !  Belinda ! "  but  no  answer  came; 
They  were  either  hidden  cleverly,  or  else  they 
had  wandered  a  longer  distance  than  seemed 
possible  in  so  short  a  time. 

Suddenly  Mell  gave  a  shriek  and  a  jump. 
There  on  the  path  before  her  lay  a  snake,  or 
what  looked  like  one.  It  did  not  move.  Mell 
grew  bold  and  went  nearer.  Alas !  alas  !  it 
was  not  a  snake.  It  was  a  pigtail  of  braided 
hair,  —  Isaphine's  hair  :  the  red  color  was  un- 
mistakable. She  seized  it.  A  smell  of  kero- 
sene met  her  nose.      Oh  that  Tommy! 

With  the  pigtail  coiled  inside  of  the  lost 
shoe,  Mell  ran  on.  She  was  passing  a  thicket 
of  sassafras  bushes,  when  a  sound  of  crying  met 


LITTLE    BG   PEEP,  89 

her  ears.  Instantly  she  stopped,  and,  parting 
the  bushes  with  her  hands,  peered  in.  There 
they  were,  sitting  in  a  Uttle  circle  close  to- 
gether, —  Arabella  and  Gabella  Sarah  fast  asleep, 
with  their  heads  in  Belinda's  lap;  Isaphine 
crying ;  Tommy  sitting  a  little  apart,  an  evil 
smile  on  his  face,  in  his  hand  a  pair  of  scissors ! 

''  You  naughty,  naughty,  naughty  boy,'^ 
screamed  MeU,  flinging  herself  upon  him. 

With  a  howl  of  terror.  Tommy  started  up  and 
prepared  to  flee.  Mell  caught  and  held  him 
tight.  Something  flew  from  his  lap  and  fell  to 
the  ground.  Alas !  alas !  three  more  pigtails. 
MeU  looked  at  the  children.  Each  httle  head 
was  cropped  close.     What  would  mother  say  ? 

"  He  cut  off  my  hair,"  sobbed  Isaphine. 

^^So  did  he  cut  mine,"  whined  Belinda 
"  He  took  those  nassy  scissors  you  told  him  not 
to  take,  and  he  cut  off  all  our  hairs.  Boo-hoo  ! 
boo-hoo  !     Tommy's  a  notty  boy,  he  is." 

"  I'm  going  to  tell  Ma  when  she  comes  home, 
see  if  I  don^t,"  added  Isaphine. 


90  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

''\  ain't  a  bad  boy/'  cried  Tommy.  "Stop 
a-shaking  of  me,  Mell  Davis.  We  was  playing 
they  was  sheep.     I  was  a-shearing  of  em." 

"  0  Tommy,  Tommy  !  "  cried  poor  Mell,  hot, 
angry,  and  dismayed,  "  how  could  you  do  such 
a  thing  ?  "  / 

"  They  was  sheep,"  retorted  Tommy  sulkily. 

"  Boo-hoo  !  boo-hoo  ! "  blubbered  Belinda. 
"  I  don't  like  my  hair  to  be  cut  off.  It  makes 
my  head  feel  all  cold." 

"  He  didn't  play  nice  a  bit,"  sobbed  Isaphine. 
*^  He's  always  notty  .to  us." 

"I'll  cut  off  your  head,"  declared  Tommy, 
threatening  with  the  scissors. 

Mell  seized  the  scissors,  and  captured  them. 
Tommy  kicking  and  struggling  meantime. 
Then  she  waked  up  the  babies,  tied  on  Bel- 
inda's shoe,  collected  the  unhappy  pigtails,  and 
said  they  must  all  go  home.  Home !  The 
very  idea  made  her  sick  with  fright. 

I  don't  suppose  such  a  deplorable  little  pro- 
cession was   ever   seen   before.      Isaphine  and 


LITTLE  BO  PEEP.  91 

Belinda  went  first ;  then  the  little  ones,  very 
cross  after  their  nap ;  and,  lastly,  Mell,  holding 
Tommy's  arm,  and  driving  the  poor  little  shorn 
sheep  before  her  with  the  handle  of  the  parasol, 
which  she  used  as  a  shepherdess  uses  her  crook. 
They  were  all  tired  and  hungry.  The  babies 
cried.  The  sun  was  very  hot.  The  road 
seemed  miles  long.  Every  now  and  then  Mell 
had  to  let  them  sit  down  to  rest.  It  was  nearly 
four  o'clock  when  they  reached  home ;  and, 
long  before  that,  Mell  was  so  weary  and  dis- 
couraged that  it  seemed  as  if  she  should  hke  to 
lie  down  and  die. 

They  got  home  at  last.  Mell's  hand  was  on  the 
garden  gate,  when  suddenly  a  sight  so  terrible 
met  her  eyes  that  she  stood  rooted  to  the  spot, 
unable  to  move  an  inch  further.  There  in  the 
doorway  was  Mrs.  Davis.  Her  face  was  white 
with  anger  as  she  looked  at  the  children.  Mell 
felt  the  coral  beads  burn  about  her  throat.  She 
dropped  the  parasol  as  if  her  arm  was  broken, 
the  guilty  tails  hung  from  her  hand,  and  she 


92  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

wished  with  all  her  heart  that  the  earth  could 
open  and  swallow  her  up. 

It  was  a  full  moment  before  anybody  spoke. 
Then  "  What  does  this  mean  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
D^ivis^  in  an  awful  voice. 

Mell  could  not  answer.  But  the  children 
broke  out  in  full  chorus  of  lament. 

"  Tommy  was  so  bad  to  us."  ''  He  lost  us  in 
the  woods."  ^^He  stole  the  scissors,  and  they 
were  dirty  scissors."  "  Mell  went  away  and 
left  us  all  alone." 

"Yes/'  cried  Mrs.  Davis,  her  wrath  rising 
with  each  word,  "  I  know  very  well  what  you 
were  up  to,  miss.  All  my  things  upset.  As 
g?oon  as  I  found  out  that  I  had  forgotten  my 
key,  1  knew  very  well  —  "  her  voice  died  away 
into  the  silence  of  horror.  She  had  just  caught 
sight  of  Belinda's  cropped  head. 

"  Tommy  did  it.  He  cut  off  all  our  hairs," 
blubbered  Belinda. 

Mell  shut  her  eyes  tight.  She  was  too 
frightened  to  move.     She  felt  herself  clutched, 


LITTLE  BO  PEEP.  93 

dragged  in-doors,  upstairs^  and  her  ears  boxed, 
all  in  a  moment.  Mrs.  Davis  pushed  her  vio- 
lently forward,  a  door  banged,  a  key  turned. 
'^  There  you  stay  for  a  week,  and  on  bread  and 
water,"  cried  a  voice  through  the  keyhole; 
and  Mell,  opening  her  eyes,  found  herself  in  the 
dark  and  alone.  She  knew  very  well  where 
she  was,  —  in  the  closet  under  the  attic  stairs ; 
a  place  she  dreaded,  because  she  had  once  seen 
a  mouse  there,  and  Mell  was  particularly  afraid 
of  mice. 

"  Oh,  don't  shut  me  up  here  !  Please  don't  \ 
please  let  me  out,  please,"  she  shrieked.  But 
Mrs.  Davis  had  gone  downstairs,  and  nobody 
replied. 

"  They'll  come  and  eat  me  up  as  soon  as  it 
grows  dark,"  thought  Mell ;  and  this  idea  so  ter- 
rified her  that  she  began  to  beat  on  the  door 
with  her  hands,  and  scream  at  the  top  of  her 
voice.  No  one  came.  And  after  a  while  she 
grew  so  weary  that  she  could  scream  no  longer ; 
so  she  curled  herself  up  on  the  floor  of  the 
closet  and  went  to  sleep. 


94  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

When  she  woke  the  closet  was  darker  than 
ever.  Mell  felt  weak  and  ill  for  want  of  food. 
Her  head  ached ;  her  bones  ached  from  lying 
on  the  hard  floor ;  she  was  feverish  and  very 
miserable. 

"  It's  dark ;  she's  going  to  leave  me  here  all 
night/'  sobbed  Mell.  "  Oh  !  won't  somebody 
come  and  let  me  out  ?  "  Now  would  have  been 
a  chance  to  play  that  she  was  a  princess  shut 
up  in  a  dark  dungeon !  But  Mell  didn't  fee^ 
like  playing.  She  was  a  real  little  girl  shut  up 
in  a  closet,  and  it  wasn't  nice  at  all.  There 
was  no  "  make  believe  "  left  in  her  just  then. 

Suddenly  a  fine  scratching  sound  began  in 
the  wall  close  to  her  head.  "  The  mouse,  the 
mouse,"  thought  Mell,  and  she  gave  a  shriek  so 
loud  that  it  would  have  scared  away  a  whole 
army  of  mice.  The  shriek  sounded  all  over  the 
house.  It  woke  the  children  in  their  beds,  and 
rang  in  the  ears  of  Mrs.  Davis,  who  was  sitting 
down  to  supper  in  the  kitchen  with  somebody 
just    arrived,  —  a    big,    brown,   rough-bearded 


LITTLE   BO    PEEP.  95 

eomebody,  who  smelt  of  salt-water ;  Mell's  father, 
in  short,  returned  from  sea. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  Captain  Davis,  putting 
down  his  cup. 

Mrs.  Davis  was  frightened.  In  the  excite- 
ment of  her  husband's  sudden  return  she  had 
quite  forgotten  poor  Mell  in  her  closet. 

"  Some  of  the  children,"  she  answered,  trying 
to  speak  carelessly.     "  I'll  run  up." 

Another  terrible  shriek.  Captain  Davis  seized 
a  candle,  and  hurried  upstairs  after  his  wife. 

He  was  just  in  time  to  see  her  unlock  the 
closet  door,  and  poor  MeU  tumble  out,  tear- 
stained,  white,  frightened  almost  out  of  her 
wits.  She  clutched  her  step-mother's  dress  with 
both  hands. 

^^  Oh,  don't  make  me  go  in  there  again !  "  she 
pleaded.  ''\  will  be  good.  I'll  never  meddle 
with  the  things  in  the  chest  any  more.  There 
are  mice  in  there,  hundreds  of  'em;  they'll 
run  all  over  me  ;  they'll  eat  me  up.  Oh,  dovHt 
make  me  go  in  there  again !  " 


96  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

"  Why,  it's  my  little  Mell !  "  cried  the  amazed 
Captain.  "  Shiver  my  timbers  !  what  does  this 
mean?"  He  lifted  Mell  into  his  aims  and 
looked  sternly  at  his  wife. 

"  She's  been  a  very  naughty  girl/'  said  Jlrs. 
Davis,  ti'ying  to  speak  boldly.  "  So  naughty 
that  I  had  to  shut  her  up.  Stop  crying  so,  Mell. 
I  forgive  you  now.  I  hope  you'll  never  be  so 
bad  again." 

"  Oh,  may  I  come  out  ?  "  sobbed  Mell,  clinging 
to  her  father's  neck.  "  You  said  I  must  stay  a 
week,  but  I  couldn't  do  that,  the  mice  would 
kill  me.  Mice  are  so  awful !  "  She  shuddered 
with  horror  as  she  spoke. 

"  This  ain't  a  pleasant  welcome  for  a  man  just 
in  from  sea,"  remarked  Captain  Davis. 

Mrs.  Davis  explained  and  tried  to  smooth  the 
matter  over,  but  the  Captain  continued  very 
sober  all  that  evening.  Mell  thought  it  was 
because  he  was  angry  with  her,  but  her  step- 
mother knew  very  well  that  she  also  was  in 
disgrace.     The  truth  was  that  the  Captain  was 


LITTLE  BO  PEEP,  97 

thinking  what  to  do.  He  was  not  a  man  of 
many  words,  but  he  felt  that  affairs  at  home 
must  go  very  wrong  when  he  was  away,  and 
that  such  a  state  of  things  was  bad  for  his  wife, 
and  very  bad  for  Mell. 

So  in  a  day  or  two  he  went  off  to  Cape  Cod, 
"  to  see  his  old  mother/'  as  he  said,  in  reality  to 
consult  her  as  to  what  should  be  done.  When 
he  came  back,  he  asked  Mell  how  she  would  like 
to  go  and  live  with  Grandmother  and  be  her 
little  girl. 

"Will  she  shut  me  up  in  closets?"  asked 
Mell  apprehensively. 

"  No,  she'll  be  very  kind  to  you  if  you  are  a 
good  girl.  Grandma's  an  old  lady  now.  She 
wants  a  handy  child  about  the  house  to  help, 
and  sort  of  pet  and  make  much  of. 

"  I  _  guess  —  I'U  —  Hke  —.it,"  said  Mell 
slowly.     "  It's  a  good  way  from  here,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  a  good  way." 

Mell  nodded  her  head  in  a  satisfied  manner. 
"  She'll  not  often  come  there,"  she  thought 
"  She  "  meant  Mrs.  Davis. 


98  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

Mrs.  Davis  was  unusually  pleasant  for  the  few 
remaining  days  which  Mell  spent  at  home.  I  do 
not  think  she  had  ever  meant  to  treat  Mell  un- 
kindly,  but  she  had  a  hot  temper,  and  the  care 
of  five  unruly  children  is  a  good  deal  for  one 
woman  to  undertake,  without  counting  in  a 
little  step-daughter  with  a  head  stuffed  with 
fairy  stories.  She  washed  and  ironed,  mended 
and  packed  for  Mell  as  kindly  as  possible^,  and 
did  not  say  one  cross  word,  not  even  when  her 
husband  brought  the  coral  necklace  from  the 
big  chest  and  gave  it  to  Mell  for  her  very  own. 
"  The  child  had  a  right  to  her  mother's  neck- 
lace," he  said.  All  was  peaceful  and  serene, 
and  when  Mell  said  good-by  she  surprised  her- 
self by  feeling  quite  sorry  to  go,  and  kissed 
Gabella  Sarah's  small  face  with  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

Grandmother  was  just  such  a  dear  old  woman 
as  one  reads  about  in  books.  Her  cheeks  were 
all  criss-crossed  with  little  wrinkles,  which  made 
her  look  as  if  she  were  always  smiling.      Her 


LITTLE  BO  PEEP,  99 

forehead  was  smooth,  her  eyes  kind  and  blue 
She  was  small,  thin,  and  wiry.     Her  laugh  was 
as  fresh  as  a  young  woman's.      Mell  loved  her 
at  once,  and  was  sure  that  she  should  be  happy 
to  live  with  her  and  be  her  little  girl. 

"Why,  Bethuel,  you've  brought  me  a  real 
good  helper,"  said  Grandmother,  as  Mell  ran  to 
and  fro,  setting  the  tea-table,  cutting  bread,  and 
learning  where  things  were  kept.  "  I  shall  sit 
like  a  lady  and  do  nothing  but  rock  in  my 
cheer  now  that  I've  got  Mell."  Mell  heard 
the  kind  words,  and  sprang  about  more  busily 
than  ever.     It  was  a  new  thing  to  be  praised. 

Before  Captain  Davis  went  next  day  he 
walked  over  to  Barnstable,  and  came  back  with 
a  parcel  in  his  hand.  The  parcel  was  for  Mell. 
It  contained  the  Fairy  Tales,  —  all  new  and  com- 
plete, bound  in  beautiful  red  covers. 

"You  shall  read  them  aloud  to  me  in  the 
evenings,"  said  Grandmother. 

That  night,  if  anybody  had  peeped  through 
the  window  of   Grandmother's  little  house  he 


100       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

would  have  seen  a  pleasant  sight.  The  kitchen 
was  all  in  order ;  the  lamp  burned  clear ;  Grand 
mother  sat  in  her  rocking-chair  with  a  smile  on 
her  kind  old  face,  while  Mell,  at  her  feet  on  a 
little  stool,  opened  the  Fairy  Tales,  and  pre- 
pared to  read.  "  Once  upon  a  time  there  lived 
a  beautiful  Princess/'  she  began  ;  — then  a  sud- 
den sense  of  the  dehghtf ulness  of  all  this  over- 
came her.  She  dropped  the  book  into  her  lap, 
clasped  her  hands  tight,  and  said,  half  to  herself, 
half  to  Grandmother,  "  Isn't  it  nice  ?  " 


MISTRESS  MARY. 


It  was  the  first  of  May ;  but  May  was  in  an 
April  moodj  —  half  cloudy,  half  shiny,  —  and 
belied  her  name.  Sprinkles  of  silvery  rain 
dotted  the  way-side  dust ;  flashes  of  sun  caught 


102  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

the  drops  as  thoy  fell,  and  turned  eajh  into  a 
tiny  mirror  fit  for  fairy  faces.  The  trees  were 
raining  too,  showers  of  willow-catkins  and 
cherry-bud  calyxes,  which  fell  noiselessly  and 
strewed  the  ground.  The  children  kicked  the 
soft  brown  drifts  aside  with  their  feet  as  they 
walked  along. 

The  doors  of  the  Methodist  meeting-house  at 
Valley  Hill  stood  open,  and  crowds  of  men  and 
women  and  children  were  going  into  them.  It 
was  not  Sunday  which  called  the  people  to- 
gether :  it  was  the  annual  Conference  meeting ; 
and  all  the  country  round  was  there  to  hear  the 
reports  and  learn  where  the  ministers  were  to 
be  sent  for  the  next  two  years.  Methodist 
clergjmien,  you  know,  are  not  "  called  "  by  the 
people  of  the  parish,  as  other  clergymen  are. 
They  go  where  the  church  sends  them,  and 
every  second  year  they  are  all  changed  to  other 
parishes.  This,  it  is  thought,  keeps  the  people 
and  pastors  fresh  and  interested  in  each  other. 
But  I  don't  know.      Human  beings,  as  well  as 


MISTRESS    MARY,  103 

vegetables,  have  a  trick  of  putting  down  roots ; 
and  even  a  cabbage  or  a  potato  would  resent 
such  transplanting,  and  would  refuse  to  thrive. 

Sometimes,  when  a  parish  has  become  at- 
tached to  its  minister,  it  will  plead  to  have  him 
stay  longer.  Now  and  then  this  request  is 
granted ;  but,  as  a  rule,  the  minister  has  to  go. 
And  it  is  a  hard  rule  for  his  wife  and  children, 
who  have  to  go  too. 

The  Valley  Hill  people  "  thought  a  heap  "  of 
their  minister,  Mr.  Forcythe,  and  had  begged 
hard  that  he  might  stay  with  them  for  another 
term.  Everybody  belonging  to  the  church  had 
come  to  the  meeting  feeling  anxious,  and  yet 
pretty  certain  that  the  answer  would  be  favor- 
able. All  over  the  building,  people  i\  ere  whis- 
pering about  the  matter,  and  heads  were,  nodding 
and  bowing.  The  bonnets  on  these  heads  were 
curiously  alike.  Mrs.  Perry,  the  village  milliner, 
never  had  more  than  one  pattern  hat.  "  That  is 
what  is  worn,"  she  said;  and  nobody  disputed 
the  fact,  which  saved  Mrs.  Perry  trouble.     The 


104        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

Valley  Hill  people  liked  it  just  as  well,  and 
didn't  mind  the  lack  of  variety.  This  year  Mrs. 
Perry  had  announced  yellow  to  be  the  fashion, 
so  nine  out  of  ten  of  the  hats  present  were 
trimmed  with  yellow  ribbon  crossed  in  just  the 
same  way  over  a  yellow  straw  crown ;  and  the 
church  looked  like  a  bed  of  sisterly  tulips  nod- 
ding and  bowing  in  the  wind. 

Bishop  Judson  was  the  person  to  read  the 
announcements.  He  was  a  nice  old  man,  kind 
at  heart,  though  formal  in  manner,  and  anxious 
eyes  were  fixed  on  him  as  he  got  up  with  a 
paper  in  his  hand.  That  important  little  paper 
held  comfort  or  discomfort  for  ever  so  many 
people.  Every  one  bent  forward  to  listen.  It 
was  so  still  all  over  the  church  that  you  might 
have  heard  a  pin  drop.  The  Bishop  began  with 
a  little  speech  about  the  virtues  of  patience  and 
contentment,  and  how  important  it  was  that 
everybody  should  be  quite  satisfied  whatever 
happened  to  them.     Then  he  opened  the  paper. 

"Brother    Johnson,    Middlebury,"   he   read 


MISTRESS    MARY.  105 

Middlebiiry  was  a  favorite  parish,  so  Brother 
Johnson  looked  pleased,  and  Sister  Johnson  was 
congratulated  by  the  friends  who  sat  near  her. 
"^  Brother  Woodward,  Little  Falls ;  Brother 
Ashe,  Plunxet ;  Brother  Allen,  Claxton  Cor- 
ners." And  so  on.  Some  faces  grew  bright, 
some  sad,  as  the  reading  proceeded.  At  last 
"  Brother  Forcythe,  Bedding  ;  Brother  Martin, 
Valley  Hill,"  was  announced.  A  quiver  of  dis- 
appointment went  over  the  church,  and  a  little 
girl  sitting  in  the  gallery  began  to  cry. 

"  My  dear,  my  dear,"  whispered  her  mother, 
much  distressed  at  her  sobs  and  gulps.  People 
looked  i;p  from  below ;  but  Mary  could  not 
stop.  She  took  her  mother  s  handkerchief  and 
held  it  tight  over  her  mouth ;  but  the  sobs 
would  come.  Her  heart  was  half -broken  at  the 
idea  of  leaving  Valley  Hill  and  going  to  that 
horrid  Redding,  where  nobody  wanted  to  go. 

Old  Mrs.  Clapp,  from  behind,  reached  over 
and  gave  her  a  bunch  of  fennel.  But  the  fennel 
only  made  Mary  cry  harder.     In  Redding,  she 


106  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

was  sure,  would  be  no  kind  Mrs.  Clapp,  no 
"meeting-house  seed;"  and  her  sobs  grew 
thicker  at  the  thought. 

"  I  observe  that  your  httle  daughter  seems  to 
be  distressed/'  said  Bishop  Judson,  as  Mrs.  For- 
cythe  led  the  sobbing  Mary  down  from  the 
gallery  at  the  end  of  service.  "  Children  of  her 
age  form  strong  attachments  to  places,  I  am 
aware.  But  it  is  well  to  break  them  before 
they  become  unduly  strong.  Here  we  have  no 
continuing  city,  you  know." 

"  Yes/'  said  poor  Mrs.  Forcythe,  with  a  meek 
sigh.  She  had  been  married  fourteen  years, 
and  this  was  her  seventh  move. 

"  Redding  —  hum  —  is  a  desirable  place  in 
some  respects/'  went  on  the  Bishop.  "There 
is  a  great  work  to  do  there,  —  a  great  work.  It 
requires  a  man  of  Brother  Forcythe's  energy  to 
meet  it.  Mistress  Marv  here  will  doubtless  find 
consolation  in  the  thought  tliat  her  fathers 
sphere  of  usefulness  is  —  h'm  —  enlarged." 

"  But  we  shan't  have  any  garden/'  faltered 


MISl'RESS    MARY,  107 

Mary.  "Tilly  Brooks,  who  was  there  before, 
says  it  isn't  a  bit  nice.  She  never  saw  a  flower 
all  the  time  she  was  there,  she  said.  I'd  just 
planted  my  bed  in  the  garden  here.  Mrs. 
Clapp  gave  me  six  pansies,  and  it  was  going  to 
be  so  prett}^  Now  I've  got  to  —  leave  —  'em." 
Iler  voice  died  away  into  sobs. 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  said  the  Bishop.  "  The  customs 
of  a  church  cannot  be  set  aside  to  accommodate 
a  child's  flower-bed.  You'll  find  other  things  to 
please  you  in  Redding,  Mistress  Mary.  Come^ 
come,  dry  your  eyes.  Your  father's  daughter 
should  not  set  an  example  like  this." 

"  No,  sir,"  gulped  Mary,  mortified  at  this  re- 
proof from  the  Bishop,  who  was  an  important 
person,  and  much  looked  up  to.  She  did  her 
best  to  stop  crying,  but  it  was  hard  work. 
W^hen  they  reached  home,  the  sight  of  the  pan- 
sies  perking  their  yellow  and  purple  faces  up  to 
meet  her,  renewed  her  grief.  There  was  her 
mignonette  seed  not  yet  sprouted.  If  she  had 
known  that  they  were  going  away,  she  would 


108  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

not  have  planted  any.  There,  worst  of  all,  was 
the  corner  where  she  had  planned  such  a  nice 
surprise  for  her  mother,  —  ^^A.  F."  in  green 
parsley  letters.  A.  F.  stood  for  Anne  Forcythe. 
Now,  mother  would  never  see  the  letters  or 
know  any  thing  about  it.     Oh  dear,  oh  dear  ! 

Mrs.  Forcythe's  own  disappointment  was 
great,  for  they  had  all  made  sure  that  they 
should  stay.  But,  like  a  true  mother,  she  put 
her  share  of  the  grief  aside,  and  thought  only  of 
comforting  Mary. 

"  Don't  feel  so  badly,  dear,"  she  said.  '-  Eec- 
oUect,  you'll  have  Papa  still,  and  me  and  Frank 
and  little  Peter.  We'll  manage  to  be  happy 
somehow.  Eedding  isn't  half  so  disagreeable  as 
you  think." 

'^  Yes,  it  is.  Tilly  said  so.  I  was  going  to  have 
radishes  and  a  rose-bush,"  replied  Mary  tearfully. 
"  There's  a  robin  just  building  in  the  elm-tree 
now.  There  won't  be  any  trees  in  Redding; 
only  horrid  hard  cobble-stones." 

"We  must  hope   for  the    best,"   said   Mrs 


MISTRESS    MARY,  109 

Forcytlie,  who  did  not  enjoy  the  idea  of  the 
cobble-stones  any  more  than  Mary  did. 

"  Only  ten  days  more  at  Valley  Hill/'  was 
the  first  thought  that  came  into  Mary's  mind 
the  next  morning.  She  went  downstairs  cross 
and  out  of  spirits.  Her  mother  was  laying 
sheets  and  table-cloths  in  a  trunk.  The  books 
were  gone  from  the  httle  book-shelf  ;  every  thing 
had  already  begun  to  look  unsettled  and  uncom- 
fortable. 

"  I  shall  depend  on  you  to  take  care  of  little 
Peter/'  said  Mrs.  Forcythe.  "  We  shall  all  have 
to  work  hard  if  we  are  to  get  off  next  Monday 
week." 

Mary  gave  an  impatient  shrug  with  her  shoul- 
ders. She  loved  little  Peter,  but  it  seemed  an 
injury  just  then  to  have  to  take  care  of  him. 
All  the  time  that  her  mother  was  sorting,  count- 
ing, and  arranging  where  things  should  go,  she 
sat  in  the  window  sullen  and  unhappy,  looking 
out  at  the  pansy-bed.  Peter  grew  tired  of  a 
companion  who  did  nothing  to  amuse  him,  and 
began  to  sprawl  and  scramble  upstairs. 


110  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

"  0  baby,  come  back !  "  cried  Mary,  and,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  gave  him  a  shake.  Peter  cried, 
and  that  brought  poor  weary  Mrs.  Forcythe 
downstairs. 

"  Can't  you  manage  to  make  him  happy  ?  " 
she  said.     Mary  only  pouted. 

All  that  day  and  the  next  and  the  next  it  was 
the  same.  Mrs.  Forcythe  was  busy  every  mo- 
ment. There  were  a  thousand  things  to  do, 
another  thousand  to  remember.  People  kept 
coming  in  to  say  good-by.  Peter  wandered  out 
on  the  door-steps  when  Mary's  back  was  turned, 
took  cold,  and  was  threatened  with  croup.  Mrs. 
Forcythe  was  half  sick  herself  from  worry  and 
fatigue.  And  all  this  time  Mary,  instead  of 
helping,  was  one  of  her  mother's  chief  anxieties. 
She  fretted  and  complained  continually.  Every 
thing  went  wrong.  Each  article  put  into  the 
boxes  cost  her  a  flood  of  tears.  Each  friend 
who  dropped  in,  renewed  the  sense  of  loss.  She 
scarcely  noticed  her  mother's  pale  face  at  all. 
AU  the  brightness  and  busy-ness  in  her  was 


MISTRESS    MARY.  Ill 

changed  for  selfish  lamentations,  and  still  the 
burden  of  her  complaint  was^  '"  I  shan't  have 
any  flowers  in  Kedding.  My  garden,  oh,  my 
garden." 

"  I  don't  know  what's  come  to  her/'  said  poor 
Mrs.  Forcythe.  "  She's  not  hke  the  same  child 
at  all."  And  old  Mrs.  Clapp,  who  had  been  very 
fond  of  Mary,  declared  that  she  never  knew  a 
giii  so  altered. 

*''  She's  the  most  contrary  piece  you  ever  saw," 
she  said  to  her  daughter.  "  I  could  have  given 
her  a  right-down  good  slap  just  now  for  the  way 
she  spoke  to  her  mother.  It's  all  her  fault  that 
the  baby  took  cold.  She  don't  lift  a  hand  to  help, 
and  I  expect  as  sure  as  Fate  that  we'll  have 
Mrs.  Forcythe  sick  before  we  get  through.  I 
wouldn't  have  believed  that  such  a  likely  girl  as 
Mary  Forcythe  could  act  so." 

Poor  "  contrary  "  Mary !  She  was  very  un- 
liappy.  The  fatal  last  morning  came.  All  the 
boxes  were  packed.  The  drays,  laden  with  fur- 
niture and  beds,  stood  at  the  gate.     Mrs.  Clapp, 


112        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

and  Mrs.  Elder,  the  class-leader,  were  going  over 
the  house  collecting  last  things  and  doing  last 
jobs.  Mary  wandered  out  alone  into  the  garden 
for  a  farewell  look  at  her  pets. 

''  Good-by,  pansies/'  she  said,  bending  over 
them.  There  were  only  five  in  the  bed  now, 
for  Mary  had  taken  up  one  and  packed  it  in 
paper  to  carry  with  her.  A  big  tear  honped 
down  her  nose  and  splashed  into  the  middle  of 
the  yellow  pansy,  her  favorite  of  all.  It  turned 
up  its  bright  kitten-face  just  the  same.  None 
of  them  minded  Mary's  going  away.  Flowers 
are  sometimes  so  unkind  to  people. 

"  Good-by,  rose-bush,"  proceeded  Mary,  turn- 
ing from  the  pansy-bed.  "  Good-by,  honeysuckle. 
Good-by,  peony.  Good-by,  matter-i-mony." 
This  sounds  funny,  but  Mary  only  meant  by  it 
a  vine  with  a  small  purple  flower  which  grew 
over  the  back-door.  "  Good-by,  lilac,"  she  went 
on.  "  Good-by,  grass  plot."  This  brought  her 
to  the  gate.  The  wagon  stood  waiting  to  carry 
them  to  the  railroad,  three  miles  awav.     Mrs. 


MISTRESS    MARY.  113 

Forcytlie,  with  the  baby  in  her  arms^  was  just 
getting  in.  "  Hurry,  Mary/'  called  her  father. 
Slowly  she  opened  the  gate,  slowly  shut  it, 
Her  father  helped  her  over  the  wheel.  She  sat 
down  beside  Frank.  Mrs.  Clapp  waved  her 
handkerchief,  then  put  it  to  her  eyes.  Mary 
took  a  long  look  at  the  pretty  garden  just  bud^ 
ding  with  spring,  and  burst  into  tears.  Mr. 
Forcythe  chirruped  to  the  horse ;  they  were  off, 
—  and  that  was  their  good-by  to  Valley  Hill. 

Redding  was  certainly  very  different.  It  was 
an  old-fashioned  town  with  narrow  streets,  which 
smelt  of  fish.  Most  of  the  people  were  sailors, 
or  had  something  to  do  with  ships.  There  were 
several  nice  churches,  and  outside  the  town  a 
few  handsome  houses,  but  there  were  a  great 
many  poor  people  in  the  place  and  not  many 
rich  ones. 

In  the  very  narrowest  of  all  the  streets  stood 
the  parsonage ;  a  little  brick  house  with  a  paved 
yard  behind,  just  wide  enough  for  clothes-lines. 
When  the  wash  was  hung  out  there  was  not  an 


114        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

inch  to  spare  on  either  side.  Mary  gave  up  all 
hope  as  soon  as  she  saw  it.  There  was  not 
room  even  for  one  pansy.  The  windows  looked 
out  on  chimneys  and  roofs  and  other  backyards, 
with  lines  of  wet  clothes  flapping  in  the  sun.  Not 
a  tree  was  to  be  seen.  Any  one  might  be  excused 
for  thinking  it  doleful;  and  Mary,  having  made 
up  her  mind  beforehand  to  dislike  it,  found  it 
easy  to  keep  her  resolution. 

There  was  no  possibility  of  getting  things  to 
rights  that  night ;  though  several  people  came 
in  to  help,  and  a  comfortable  supper  was  ready 
spread  for  the  travellers  on  their  arrival.  Mrs. 
Forcythe  was  cheered  by  this  kindness,  but  Mary 
could  not  be  cheerful.  She  had  to  sleep  upon  a 
mattress  laid  on  the  floor.  At  another  time  this 
would  have  been  fun,  but  now  it  did  not  seem 
funny  at  all ;  it  was  only  part  and  parcel  of  the 
misery  of  coming  to  live  in  Redding.  She  cried 
herself  to  sleep,  and  came  down  in  the  morning 
with  swollen  eyelids  and  a  disposition  to  make 
the  very  worst  of  things,  —  easy  enough  for  anj 
ghi  to  do  if  she  sets  about  it. 


MISTRESS    MARY,  115 

She  scarcely  thanked  her  father  when  he  went 
out  and  bought  a  red  pot  for  the  unlucky  pansy, 
which,  after  its  travels  and  its  night  in  brown 
paper,  looked  as  disconsolate  as  Mary  herself. 
''  I  know  it'll  die  right  away,"  she  muttered  as 
she  set  it  on  the  window-sill.  "  Oh,  dear,  there's 
mother  calling.     What  does  she  want  ?  " 

"Mary,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Forcythe  when  she 
went  down,  "where  have  you  been?  I  want 
you  to  put  away  the  dishes  for  me." 

"  I'm  so  tired,"  objected  Mary  crossly. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  mother  must  be  tired 
too  ?  "  asked  her  father  gravely. 

Mary  blushed  and  began  to  place  the  cups 
and  plates  on  the  cupboard  shelves.  Her  slow 
movements  attracted  her  father's  attention. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  he  said.  "  At  Valley 
Hill  you  were  as  brisk  as  a  bee,  always  want- 
ing to  help  in  every  thing.  Here  you  seem 
unwilling  to  move.     How  is  it?" 

"I  —  don't  —  like  —  Eedding,"  broke  oul 
Mary  in  a  burst  of  petulance. 

"  You  haven't  seen  it  yet," 


116        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

'^  Yes^  I  have.  Papa.  I've  seen  it  as  much 
as  I  want  to.     It's  horrid  !  " 

"I  never  knew  her  to  behave  so  before/'  said 
Mr.  Forcj^the  in  a  perplexed  tone,  as  Mary, 
havhig  unpacked  the  dishes,  sobbed  her  way 
upstairs. 

"She'll  brighten  when  we  are  settled,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Forcythe,  indulgent  as  mothers  are, 
and  ready  to  hope  the  best  of  her  child.  "  Oh, 
dear !  there's  the  baby  waked  up.  Would  you 
call  Mary  to  go  to  him  ?  " 

So  it  went  on  all  that  week.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Forcythe  were  very  patient  with  Mary,  hoping 
always  that  this  evil  mood  would  pass,  and  their 
bright,  helpful  little  daughter  come  back  to  them 
again.  She  never  refused  to  do  any  thing  that 
was  asked  of  her ;  but  you  know  the  difference 
between  willing  and  unwilling  service :  Mary 
just  did  the  tasks  set  her,  no  more,  and  as  soon 
as  they  were  finished  fled  to  her  own  room  to 
fret  and  cry.  Her  father  took  her  out  to  walk 
and    showed   her   the   new   church,   but   Mary 


MISTRESS    MARY,  117 

thought  the  church  ugly,  and  the  outside  view 
of  Bedding  as  unpleasant  as  the  inside  one. 
Dull  streets,  small  houses  everywhere ;  no  gar- 
dens, except  now  and  then  a  single  bed,  edged 
with  a  row  of  stiff  cockle-shells  by  way  of  fence, 
and  planted  with  pert  sweet-williams  or  crown 
imperials.  These  Mary  thought  were  worse 
than  no  flowers  at  all.  Every  thing  smelt  of 
fish.  The  very  sea  was  made  ugly  by  ware- 
houses and  shabby  wharves.  The  people  they 
met  were  strangers ;  and,  altogether,  the  effect 
of  Mary's  walk  was  to  send  her  back  more 
homesick  than  ever  for  Valley  Hill. 

By  Friday  night  the  Kttle  parsonage  was  in 
order.  Mrs.  Forcythe  was  a  capital  manager. 
She  planned  and  contrived,  turned  and  twisted 
and  made  things  comfortable  in  a  surprising 
way.  But  she  overtired  herself  greatly  in  do- 
ing this,  and  on  Saturday  morning  Mary  was 
waked  by  her  father  calling  from  below  that 
mother  was  very  ill,  and  she  must  come  dow^n 
at  once  and  stay  with  her  while  he  went  for  a 
doctor. 


118  NINE   LITTLE  GOS LINUS, 

"  Oh^  dear !  sighed  Mary,  as  she  hurried  on 
her  clothes.  "  Now  mother  is  sick.  It's  all 
this  hateful  Redding.  She  never  was  sick  when 
we  lived  in  the  country." 

But  the  hard  mood  melted  the  moment  she 
saw  her  mother's  pale  face  and  feeble  smile. 

"1  hope  I'm  not  going  to  be  very  ill/'  said 
Mrs.  Forcythe  ;  "  probably  it's  only  that  I  have 
tired  myseH  out.  You'll  have  to  be  '  Mamma  ' 
for  a  day  or  two,  Mary  dear.  Make  Papa  as 
comfortable  as  you  can.  See  that  Frank  has  his 
lunch  put  up  for  school,  and  don't  let  Peter  take 
cold.  Oh,  dear !  —  my  head  aches  so  hard  that 
I  can't  talk.  I  know  you'll  do  your  best  Mary, 
won't  you  ?  " 

Guess  how  Mary  felt  at  this  appeal !  All  her 
better  nature  came  back  in  a  moment.  She 
saw  how  wrong  she  had  been  in  nursing  her 
selfish  griefs,  and  letting  this  dear  mother  over- 
work herseK.  "  0  mother,  I  will,  indeed  I 
will !  "  she  cried,  kissing  the  pale  face ;  and,  only 
waiting  to  draw  the  blind  so  that  the  sun  should 


MISTRESS    MARK  119 

not  shine  in,  she  flew  downstairs,  eager  to  do  all 
she  could  to  make  up  for  past  ill-conduct. 

The  Doctor  came.  He  said  Mrs.  Forcythe 
was  threatened  with  fever,  and  must  be  kept 
very  quiet  for  several  days.  Mary  had  nevei 
in  her  life  worked  so  hard  as  she  did  that  Satur- 
day. There  was  breakfast,  dinner,  supper  to 
get,  dishes  to.  wash,  water  to  heat,  the  fire  to 
tend,  rooms  to  dust,  beds  to  make,  the  baby 
to  keep  out  of  mischief.  She  was  very  tired  by 
night,  but  her  heart  felt  lighter  than  it  had  for 
many  days  past.  Do  you  wonder  at  this?  I 
can  tell  you  the  reason.  Mary's  troubles  were 
selfish  troubles,  and  the  moment  she  forgot  her- 
self in  thinking  of  somebody  else,  they  became 
small  and  began  to  creep  away. 

"  Pitty,  pitty  ! "  said  little  Peter,  as  he  heard 
her  singing  over  her  dish-washing.  Mary  caught 
him  up  and  gave  him  a  hearty  kiss,  —  a  real 
Valley  Hill  kiss,  such  as  she  had  given  no  one 
nince  they  came  to  Redding. 

"  Mary  is  doing  famously,"  Mr.  Forcythe  told 


120       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

his  wife  that  night.  "  She  has  a  first-rate  head 
on  her  shoulders  for  a  girl  of  her  age."  Marj 
heard  hini;  and  was  pleased.  She  liked  —  we 
all  like  —  to  be  counted  useful  and  valuable. 
The  bit  of  praise  sent  her  back  to  her  work 
with  redoubled  zeal. 

Next  morning  Mrs.  Forcythe  was  a  little  better. 
Her  head  ached  less ;  she  sat  up  on  her  pillows 
and  drank  a  cup  of  tea.  Mary  was  smoothing 
her  mother  s  hair  with  soft  pats  of  the  brush, 
when  suddenly  the  church  bells  began  to  ring. 
She  had  never  heard  such  sounds  before.  The 
bell  at  Valley  Hill  was  cracked,  and  went  tang 
—  tang  —  tang,  as  if  the  meeting-house  were 
an  old  cow  walking  slowly  about.  These  bells 
had  a  dozen  different  voices,  —  some  deep  and 
solemn,  others  bright  and  clear,  but  all  beau- 
tiful ;  and  across  their  pealing  a  soft,  delicious 
chime  from  the  tower  of  the  Episcopal  church 
went  to  and  fro,  and  wove  itself  in  and  out  like 
a  thread  of  silver  embroidery.  Mary  dropped 
the  brush,  and  clasped  her  hands  tight.     It  was 


MISTRESS    MARY,  121 

like  listening  to  a  song  of  which  she  could  not 
hear  enough.  When  the  last  tinkle  of  the 
chime  died  away,  she  unclasped  her  hands,  and, 
turning  from  the  window,  cried,  '^  0  mother ! 
wasn't  that  lovely?  There  is  one  pleasant 
thing  in  Eedding,  after  all ! " 

I  do  not  think  matters  ever  seemed  so  hard 
again  after  that  morning  when  Mary  made 
friends  with  the  church  bells.  It  was  the  be- 
ginning of  a  better  understanding  between  her 
and  her  new  home ;  and  there  is  a  great  deal  in 
beginnings,  even  though  they  may  work  slowly 
toward  their  ends. 

By  the  close  of  the  week  Mrs.  Forcythe  was 
downstairs  again,  weak  and  pale,  but  able  to 
sit  in  her  chair  and  direct  things,  which  Mary 
felt  to  be  a  great  comfort.  The  parishioners 
began  to  call.  There  were  no  rich  people 
among  them  ;  but  it  was  a  hard-working,  active 
parish,  and  did  a  great  deal  for  its  means.  The 
Sunday-school  was  large  and  flourishing ;  there 
was  a  missionary  association,  a  home  mission- 


122  NINE   LITTLE    GOSLINGS. 

ary  association,  a  mite  society,  and  a  sewing 
circle,  which  met  every  week  to  make  clothes 
for  the  poor  and  partake  of  tea,  soda  biscuit, 
and  six  sorts  of  cake.  Beside  these,  a  new 
project  had  just  been  started,  "  The  Seamen's 
Daughters'  Industrial  Society ; "  or,  in  other 
words,  a  sewing-school  for  little  girls  whose 
fathers  were  sailors.  There  were  plenty  of 
such  little  girls  in  Redding. 

"Your  daughter  will  join,  of  course/'  said 
Mrs.  Wallis,  when  she  came  to  call  on  her 
minister's  wife.  "  It's  important  that  the  pas- 
tor's family  should  take  a  part  in  every  good 
work."  Mrs.  Wallis  was  the  most  energetic 
woman  of  the  congregation,  —  at  the  head  of 
every  thing. 

"Tm  afraid  Mary's  sewing  is  not  good 
enough,"  replied  Mrs.  Porcythe.  "  She  isn't 
very  skilful  with  her  needle  yet." 

"  Oh !  she  knows  enough  to  teach  those 
ignorant  little  creatures.  Half  of  them  are 
foreigners,  and  never  touch  a  needle  in  their 


MISTRESS    MARY.  123 

homes.  It's  every  thing  to  give  them  some 
ideas  beyond  their  own  shiftless  ways." 

"Would  you  like  to  try,  Mary?"  asked  her 
mother. 

"I  —  don't  —  know/' replied  Mary,  afraid  to 
refuse,  because  Mrs.  Wallis  looked  so  sharp  and 
decided. 

"  Very  well,  then  I'll  call  for  you  on  Satur- 
day, at  half -past  ten,"  went  on  Mrs.  WaUis, 
quite  regardless  of  Mary's  hesitating  tone. 
"  I'm  glad  you'U  come.  It  would  never  do  not 
to  have  some  of  the  minister's  family.  Satur- 
day morning,  at  half -past  ten  !  Good-by,  Mrs. 
Forcythe.  Don't  get  up;  you  look  peaked 
still.  To-morrow  is  baking  day,  and  I  shall 
send  you  a  green-currant  pie.  Perhaps  that'll 
do  you  good."     With  these  words  she  departed. 

"  Must  I  reaUy  teach  in  that  school  ?  "  asked 
Mary  dolefully. 

"I  think  you'd  better.  The  people  expect 
it,  and  it  will  be  a  good  thing  for  you  to  prac- 
tise sewing  a  little,"  replied  her  mother.  "  I 
daresay  it  will  be  pleasanter  than  you  think." 


124       NINE    LITTLE    GOSLINGS. 

"  It  seems  so  funny  that  I  should  be  set  to 
teach  any  one  to  sew/'  said  Mary,  bursting  into 
a  laugh.  '^  Don't  you  recollect  how  Mrs.  Clapp 
used  to  scold  me,  and  say  I  '  gobbled '  my 
darns?" 

"  You  mustn't  '  gobble '  before  the  seamen's 
daughters/'  said  Mrs.  Forcythe,  smiling.  ^^It 
will  be  a  capital  lesson  for  you  to  try  to  teach 
wliat  you  haven't  quite  learned  yourself." 

Punctual  as  the  clock  Mrs.  Wallis  appeared 
on  Saturday,  and  bore  the  unwilling  Mary  away 
to  the  sewing-school.  Mrs.  Forcythe  watched 
them  from  the  window.  She  couldn't  help 
laughing,  their  movements  were  so  comically 
different,  —  Mrs.  Wallis  was  so  brisk  and  de- 
cided, while  Mary  lagged  behind,  dragging  one 
slow  foot  after  the  other  as  if  each  moment  she 
longed  to  stop  and  dared  not.  Very  different 
was  her  movement,  however,  two  hours  later, 
when  she  returned.  She  came  with  a  kind  of 
burst,  her  eyes  bright  with  excitement,  and  her 
r^hecks  pinker  than  they  had  been  since  she  left 
Valley  Hill. 


MISl'RESS    MARY,       ,  125 

^'  0  mother,  it  is  so  nice  !  Ever  so  many 
children  were  there,  — thirty  at  least;  and  Mrs. 
Wallis  said  I  might  choose  any  five  I  hl^ed  to 
be  my  class.  First,  I  chose  the  dearest  little 
Irish  girl  Her  name  is  Norah,  and  she's  just 
as  pretty  as  she  can  be,  only  her  face  was 
dreadfully  dirty,  and  her  clothes  all  rags.  Then 
her  little  sister  Kathleen  cried  to  come ;  so  I 
took  her  too.  Then  I  chose  a  cunning  little 
German  tot  named  Gretchen.  She  has  yellow 
hair,  braided  in  tight  little  tails  down  her  back, 
and  is  a  good  deal  cleaner  than  the  rest,  but  not 
very  clean,  you  know ;  and  she  hadn't  any  shoes 
at  all.  Then  Mrs.  Wallis  brought  up  the  funni- 
est little  French  girl,  with  a  name  I  can't  pro- 
nounce. I'm  going  to  call  her  Amy.  And  the 
last  of  all  is  an  American,  real  pretty.  Her 
name  is  Rachel  Gray.  Her  father  is  gone  on  a 
whaling  voyage,  and  won't  be  back  for  three 
years.  Don't  they  sound  nice,  mother?  I 
think  1  shall  like  teaching  them  so  much ! " 

"  Do  they  know  any  thing  about  sewing  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Forcythe. 


126        NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

"  Not  a  thing.  They  made  dreadful  stitches. 
Kathleen  cried  because  the  needle  pricked  her, 
and  Rachel  wanted  to  wear  the  thimble  on  the 
wrong  finger.  Amy  did  the  best.  When  they 
went  away  they  all  wanted  to  kiss  me,  and 
Norah  said  she  guessed  I  was  the  best  teacher 
in  the  school.  Wasn't  that  cunning?  Mrs. 
Wallis  is  real  kind.  She  brought  ever  so  much 
gingerbread,  and  gave  each  of  the  children  a 
piece.'' 

"  I'm  glad  it  begins  so  well  —  " 

*^  Yes.  There's  just  one  thing,  though.  The 
children's  faces !  You  can't  think  how  dirty 
they  are.  I  should  like  to  give  them  a  good 
scrub  all  round." 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  ?  There  isn't  any  wash-bowl 
down  at  the  school-room." 

"  If  you  liked  you  might  have  them  all  come 
here  at  ten  o'clock,  and  walk  down  with  you. 
Then  you  could  take  them  up  to  your  room, 
wash  their  faces  and  hands,  and  brush  their  hair 


MISTRESS    MARK  127 

smooth  before  you  start.  I  reallj  think  you 
would  enjoy  your  teaching  more  if  the  scholars 
were  clean." 

"  May  I  really  do  that  ?  " 

^'  Yes.  m  buy  you  a  fresh  cake  of  soap  and 
a  brush,  and  you  can  take  two  clean  towels  from 
the  drawer  every  Saturday  morning.  Make  it 
a  rule,  but  be  very  gentle  and  pleasant  about  it 
or  the  children  may  refuse." 

''  0  mother,  what  a  good  plan !  Thank  you 
so  much,"  said  Mary  with  sparkling  eyes.  "  Now 
I  shall  have  real  comfort  with  them." 

There  was  great  excitement  in  the  sewing- 
class  when  they  were  told  that  in  future  they 
were  to  go  to  "  Teacher's  "  house  every  Satur- 
day, and  walk  down  to  school  with  her.  They 
were  a  droll  little  procession  enough  when  they 
appeared  the  next  week  at  the  appointed  time. 
Norah's  toes  were  out  of  her  shoes.  Her  tangled 
curls  were  as  rough  as  a  bird's-nest,  and  the 
hot  on  top  of  them  looked  as  if  it  had  sailed 
across  every  mud-puddle  in  town.     Little  Kath- 


128  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLING^. 

leen's  scanty  garments  were  rather  rags  than 
clothes.  And  Gretchen^  tidiest  of  all,  had 
smears  of  sausage  on  her  rosy  face,  and  did  not 
seem  to  have  been  brought  into  contact  with 
soap  and  water  for  weeks. 

Mary  led  them  up  into  her  own  room,  which, 
plain  as  it  was,  looked  like  a  palace  to  the  little 
ones  after  the  dirt  and  discomfort  of  their 
crowded  homes.  There  were  the  nice  clean 
towels,  the  new  hair-brush,  and  the  big  cake  of 
honey-soap,  mother  s  contributions  to  the  under- 
taking. The  washing  was  quite  a  frolic.  Norah 
cried  a  little  at  having  her  hair  pulled,  but 
Mary  was  gentle  and  pleasant,  and  made  the 
affair  so  amusing  that  the  children  thought  it 
pleasant  to  be  clean,  instead  of  disliking  it. 
Slie  rewarded  their  patience  by  a  kiss  all  round. 
Kathleen  threw  her  arms  about  Mary's  neck 
and  gave  her  a  great  hug.  ^^  You're  iver  so 
nice,"  she  said,  and  Mary  kissed  her  again. 

So  every  Saturday  from  that  time  forward, 
Mary  wont  to  school  followed  by  a  crowd  of 


MISTRESS    MARY.  129 

clean  little  faces,  which  looked  all  the  brighter 
and  happier  for  their  cleanliness.  She  was 
proud  of  her  class,  but  their  ragged  clothes  dis- 
tressed her  greatly. 

"  It  is  such  a  pity/'  she  told  her  mother. 
"They  are  so  pretty,  and  they  look  like  beg- 
gars." 

Mrs.  Forcythe  had  only  been  waiting  for  this. 
She  was  not  a  woman  to  give  much  advice,  even 
to  her  own  child.  "  Drop  in  a  seed  and  let  it 
grow,"  was  her  motto. 

"  There's  that  old  gingham  of  yours,"  she 
suggested.  "  You  could  spare  that  for  one  of 
them,  if  there  were  anybody  to  make  it  over." 

"  I'll  make  it !  "  cried  Mary,  "  only  — ''  her  , 
face  falling,  "  I  don't  know  how  to  cut  dresses." 

"  111  cut  it  for  you  if  you  like,"  said  Mrs. 
Forcythe  quietly. 

"Will  you,  mother  dear?  How  splendid. 
I'll  make  it  for  Norah.  She's  the  raggedest  of 
all." 

The    gingham   was    measured,    and    proved 


130        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS- 

enough  to  make  frocks  for  Norah  and  Kathleen 
too.  Mary  had  double  work  to  undertake,  but 
her  heart  was  in  her  fingers,  and  they  flew  fast. 
It  took  every  spare  moment  for  a  fortnight  to 
make  the  frocks,  but  when  they  were  done  and 
tried  on  to  the  delighted  children,  they  looked 
so  nicely  that  Mary  was  rewarded  for  her  trou- 
ble and  for  the  many  needle-pricks  in  her  fore- 
finger. 

"  Only  it's  such  a  pity  about  the  others,"  she 
told  her  mother.  "  They'll  think  I'm  partial, 
and  I'm  not,  though  I  do  love  Norah  a  little  bit 
the  best,  she's  so  affectionate.  I  wish  we  were 
rich.     Then  I  could  buy  frocks  for  them  all." 

"If  you  were  rich,  perhaps  you  wouldn't 
care  about  it,"  said  her  mother.  "  A  little  here 
and  a  httle  there,  a  stitch,  a  kind  word,  a  small 
self-denial,  these  are  in  the  power  of  all  of  us, 
and  in  course  of  time  they  mount  up  and  make 
a  great  deal.  And,  Mary  dear,  I've  always  found 
if  you  once  start  in  a  path  and  are  determined 
to  keep  on,  somebody's  sure  to  come  along  and 


MISTRESS    MARY.  131 

lend  a  helping  hand,  when  you  think  you  have 
got  to  the  end  of  every  thing,  and  must  stop  or 
turn  back." 

^^  Well;  I've  got  to  the  end  of  every  thing 
now/'  said  Mary.  "  There  aren't  any  more 
old  frocks  to  make  over,  and  we  can't  afford  to 
buy  new  ones." 

"Don't  be  discouraged/'  said  her  mother. 
"The  way  is  sure  to  open  somehow." 

"How  wise  mother  is/'  thought  Mary,  when 
the  very  next  week  on  their  way  back  from 
school  Mrs.  Wallis  said,  "  I  noticed  that  two  of 
your  scholars  had  respectable  frocks  on  to-day. 
I  wonder  if  their  mothers  made  them  ?  If  they 
did,  I've  an  old  chintz  dress  which  I  could  spare, 
and  perhaps  Gretchen's  mother  and  Amadine's 
could  take  it  and  fit  them  out  too." 

"I  made  the  dresses,"  cried  Mary  joyfully. 
"  And  if  you'll  let  me  have  the  old  chintz,  I'll 
make  some  more  for  the  others,  Mrs.  Wallis. 
Oh,  I'm  so  glad." 

"Did  you  make  them,"  said  Mrs.  Wallis  in  a 


132  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

pleased  tone.  Well,  that's  first-rate.  I'll  sen^l 
the  chintz  round  to-night;  and  any  other  old 
tilings  I  can  find  to  help  along." 

So  that  night  came  a  great  bundle,  which,  on 
opening,  revealed  not  only  the  chintz,  but  a  nice 
calico,  some  plaid  ribbon,  a  large  black  alpaca 
apron,  and  an  old  shirt  of  Mr.  Wallis's.  Such  a 
busy  time  as  Mary  had  in  planning  how  to  make 
the  most  of  these  gifts.  The  chintz  was  long 
and  full.  It  had  a  cape,  and  made  two  beauti- 
ful frocks.  The  calico  made  another  frock  and 
two  nice  pinafores,  the  black  alpaca  some  small 
aprons.  Mary  trimmed  the  two  worst  hats  with 
the  ribbon.  Last  of  all,  she  cut  and  stitched  five 
narrow  bands  of  the  linen,  which  mother  washed 
and  starched,  and  behold,  the  class  had  collars ! 
I  don't  know  which  was  most  pleased  at  this 
last  decoration,  Mary  or  the  children. 

"  They  are  just  as  good  as  dolls  to  you,  aren't 
they,"  said  her  father. 

"  0  Papa!  much  better  than  that,  Dolls  can't 
faugh  and  talk,  and  they  don't  really  care  any 


MISTRESS    MARV.  133 

thing  about  you,  you  only  just  make  believe 
that  they  do.  It's  horrid  to  fit  a  doll's  clothes ; 
she  sticks  her  arm  out  stiff  and  won't  bend  it  a 
bit.  I'd  rather  have  my  class  than  all  the  dolls' 
in  the  world." 

"  Teaching  those  children  is  having  a  capital 
effect  on  Mary  herself/'  said  Mrs.  Forcythe  to 
her  husband  after  Mary  had  gone  away.  "  She 
gains  all  the  time  in  patience  and  industry,  and 
is  twice  as  careful  of  her  things  as  she  used  to 
be.  I  found  her  crying  the  other  day  because 
she  had  torn  her  oldest  frock,  and  the  darn 
was  sure  to  come  in  a  bad  place  when  the  frock 
was  made  over  for  Gretchen  !  Think  of  Mary's 
crying  because  of  having  torn  any  thing ! " 

Time  flies  rapidly  when  people  are  busy  and 
happy.  Days  crept  into  weeks,  weeks  into 
months;  before  any  one  knew  it  two  years 
were  passed  and  another  Conference  day  was 
at  hand.     It  met  this  time  at  Eedding. 

Mary,  a  tall  girl  of  fifteen  now,  went  with 
her  mother   to   hear   the    appointments    read. 


134  NINE    LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

The  Redding  people  had  applied  to  keep  Mr. 
Forcythe  for  another  term,  but  the  request  was 
denied ;  and,  when  his  name  was  reached  on  the 
list,  it  appeared  that  he  was  to  go  back  to  Valley 
Hill. 

"  There's  one  person  I  know  will  be  pleased/' 
said  the  Bishop,  pausing  on  his  way  out  of 
church  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Forcythe.  ^^  Mistress 
Mary  here  !  She'll  be  glad  to  go  back  to  Valley 
Hill  again.  But,  hey-day!  she  doesn't  look 
glad.     What !  tears  in  her  eyes.    How  is  this  ?  " 

"1  —  don't  —  know  —  "  sighed  Mary.  "  I 
thought  —  I  thought  we  should  stay  here.  Of 
course  I  feel  sorry  just  at  first." 

"  Sorry !  Not  want  to  leave  Bedding !  Why, 
what  a  contrary  little  maid  you  are  !  Don't  you 
recollect  how  you  cried,  and  said  Redding  was 
horrid." 

^^Yes,"  said  Mary,  on  the  verge  of  a  sob. 
"  But  I  like  it  now.  Bishop.  I  don't  mind  the 
fish  a  bit,  and  the  funny  old  streets  and  the  posy- 
beds  with   cockle-shell  edges   axe  so  nice,  and 


MISTRESS    MARY.  13b 

the  bells  sound  so  sweet  on  Sunday  morning! 
—  I  like  Eedding  ever  so  much." 

"  But  your  garden,  —  I  remember  how  badly 
you  felt  to  leave  that.  You  can't  have  a  garden 
in  Redding." 

"No,  but  I  have  my  little  girls.  I'd  rather 
have  them  than  a  garden,  a  great  deal !  " 

"  What  does  she  mean  ?  "  asked  the  Bishop, 
turning  to  Mrs.  Forcythe. 

"Her  sewing-class,"  replied  Mrs.  Forcythe, 
smiling. 

"  There  they  are ! "  cried  Mary  eagerly. 
"  They're  waiting  for  me.  Do  look  at  them. 
Bishop ;  it's  those  five  little  girls  in  a  row  be- 
hind the  second  pillar  from  the  door.  That  big 
one  is  Norah,  and  the  one  in  blue  is  Rachel, 
and  the  littlest  is  named  Kathleen.  Isn't  she 
pretty  ?  They're  the  sweetest  little  things,  oh, 
I  shall  miss  them  so.  I  shan't  ever  have  such 
good  times  again  as  I've  had  with  them."  Her 
voice  faltered  ;  a  lump  came  in  her  throat.     To 


136  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

hide  it  she  slipped  away,  and  went  across  the 
church  to  where  the  httle  ones  sat. 

"  That's  a  dear  child  of  yours/'  said  the  good 
Bishop,  looking  after  her.  "I  guess  she'll  do 
wherever  she  goes." 

And  I  think  Mary  will. 


LADY  BIRD. 

"  Now,  Pocahontas  Maria,  sit  still  and  don't  dis- 
turb the  little  ones.     Imogene^  that  lesson  must 


J.38  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

be  learned  before  I  come  back,  you  know.  Now, 
dear,  that  was  very,  very  naughty.  When 
Mamma  tells  you  to  do  things  you  mustn't  pout 
and  poke  Stella  with  your  foot  in  that  way. 
It  isn't  nice  at  all.  Stella  is  younger  than  you, 
and  you  ought  to  set  her  samples,  as  Nursey 
says.  Look  at  Ning  Po  Ganges,  how  good  she 
is,  and  how  she  minds  all  I  say,  and  yet  she's 
the  Httlest  child  I've  got.'' 

If  anybody  had  been  walking  in  Madam 
Bird's  old-fashioned  garden  that  morning,  and 
had  heard  these  wise  words  coming  from  the 
other  side  of  the  rose  thicket,  he  would  cer- 
tainly have  supposed  that  some  old  dame  with 
a  school  was  hidden  away  there,  or  at  the  least  an 
anxious  Mamma  with  a  family  of  unruly  children. 
But  if  this  somebody  had  gone  into  the  thicket, 
bobbing  his  head  to  avoid  the  prickly,  wreath-like 
branches,  he  would  have  found  on  the  other 
side  only  one  person,  little  Lota  Bird,  playing 
all  alone  with  her  dolls.  "  Lady  Bird  "  Nursey 
called    Lota,   because  when,  six  years  before. 


LADY    BIRD.  139 

Papa  fetched  her  home  from  China,  she  wore 
a  speckled  frock  of  orange-red  and  black,  very 
much  the  color  of  those  other  tiny  frocks  in 
which  the  real  lady -birds  fly  about  in  summer- 
tune.  The  speckled  frock  was  outgrown  long 
ago,  but  the  name  still  clung  to  Lota,  and  every 
one  called  her  by  it  except  Grandmamma,  who 
said  "  Charlotte,"  sighing  as  she  spoke,  and 
Papa,  whose  letters  always  began,  "  My  darling 
little  Lota."  Papa  had  been  away  so  long  now 
that  Lota  would  quite  have  forgotten  him  had  it 
not  been  for  these  letters  which  came  regularly 
every  month.  The  paper  on  which  they  were 
written  had  an  odd,  pleasant  smell.  Nurse  said 
it  was  the  smell  of  sandal-wood.  Sometimes 
there  were  things  inside  for  Lota,  bird's  feathers 
of  gay  colors,  Chinese  puzzles  of  carved  ivory, 
or  small  pictures  painted  on  rice  paper.  Lota 
liked  these  things  very  much.  It  was  hke  play- 
ing at  a  Papa  rather  than  really  having  one,  but 
she  enjoyed  the  play ;  and  when  they  told  her 
that  Papa  was  soon  coming  home  to  stay  always, 


140       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

she  was  only  half  glad^  and  said  :  '^  Won't  there 
be  any  more  letters  then  ?  I  shan't  like  that." 
Poor  little  girlie :  we^  who  know  how  nice  it 
is  to  have  real  Papas^  can  feel  sorry  for  her; 
can't  we  ? 

But  Lota  did  not  pity  herself  in  the  least. 
Grandmamma's  house  was  stiff  and  gloomy, 
shaded  by  high  trees  and  thick  vines  which  jeal- 
ously shut  out  the  sun  whenever  he  tried  to  shine 
in  at  the  window  panes.  Grandmamma's  servants 
were  old  too,  hke  the  house.  Most  of  them  had 
gray  hair.  Nursey  wore  spectacles ;  the  coach- 
man indulged  in  rheumatism.  Grandmamma 
herself  was  old  and  feeble.  She  rarely  laughed 
or  seemed  to  enjoy  any  thing,  but  sat  in  an  easy 
chair  all  the  year  round,  and  read  solemn  books 
bound  in  black  leather,  which  made  her  cry. 
Jennings  her  maid  waited  on  her,  fetched  foot- 
stools and  cushions,  pushed  the  blinds  down  as 
soon  as  the  cheerful  noon  got  round  to  that  side 
of  the  house.  '^  Missus  is  uncommon  poorly  to- 
day," she  announced  every  morning.   "  Miss,  you 


LADY   BIRD.  141 

must  be  very  quiet."  Lota  was  quiet.  She  was 
the  only  young  thing  in  the  sad  old  house,  but 
the  shadows  of  age  and  sorrow  fell  lightly  upon 
her,  and  in  spite  of  them  she  was  as  happy  a 
child  as  you  will  find  in  a  summer's  day.  The 
garden  was  her  kingdom  and  her  Paradise.  It 
was  a  wide,  fragrant,  shaded  place,  full  of  tlie 
shrubs  and  flowers  of  former  days.  Huge  pink 
and  white  oleanders,  planted  in  tubs,  stood  on 
either  side  the  walks.  Thick  spikes  of  purple 
lavender  edged  the  beds ;  the  summer-house  was 
a  tangle  of  honey-suckle,  rosemary,  and  eglantine. 
Roses  of  all  colors  abounded.  They  towered 
high  above  Lota's  head  as  she  walked,  —  twined 
and  clasped,  shut  her  in  with  perfumed  shadows, 
rained  showers  of  many-colored  petals  on  the 
grass.  An  old-fashioned  fairy  would  have  de- 
lighted to  dwell  in  that  garden,  and  perhaps  one 
did  dwell  there,  else  why  should  little  lonely 
Lota  have  been  always  so  very,  very  happy  left 
alone  among  the  trees  and  flowero  ?  Can  any 
one  tell  me  that  ? 


142  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

Far  up  in  the  curved  angle  made  by  the  rose- 
hedge  was  the  little  house  where  she  and  her 
dollies  lived.  Jacob  the  gardener  built  this  house, 
of  roots  and  willow-osiers  curiously  twisted.  It 
was  just  big  enough  for  Lady  Bird  and  her 
family.  The  walls  were  pasted  over  with  gay 
prints  cut  froni  the  "  Illustrated  News  "  and  other 
papers.  There  was  a  real  window.  The  moss 
floor  had  a  blue  cotton  rug  laid  over  it.  A 
small  table  and  chair  for  Lota  and  one  apiece 
for  the  dolls  made  up  the  furniture,  beside  a 
shelf  on  which  the  baby-house  tea-set  was  dis- 
played. The  roof  kept  out  the  weather  pretty 
well,  except  when  it  rained  hard ;  then  things 
got  wet.  Here  Lota  sat  all  the  morning,  after 
she  had  finished  her  lessons  with  Nursey,  —  short 
les^^ons  always,  and  easy  ones,  by  Papa's  particu- 
lar I'equest,  for  the  doctors  had  said  that  Lota 
must  not  study  much  till  she  was  really  big  and 
strong.  Pocahontas  Maria  and  the  other  chil- 
dren had  to  work  much  harder  than  their  Mamma, 
I  assure  you.     Lota  was  very  strict  with  them. 


LADY    BIRD,  143 

When  they  were  idle  she  put  them  into  the  cor* 
ncvr,  and  made  them  sit  with  their  faces  to  the 
wall  by  way  of  punishment.  Once  Lota  had  the 
measles,  and  for  two  whole  weeks  was  kept 
away  entirely  from  the  garden-house.  When 
she  came  back,  she  found  that  during  all  this 
time  poor  little  Ning-Po  Ganges  had  been  sit- 
ting in  this  ignominious  position  with  her  face 
hidden.  Lota  cried  with  remorse  at  this,  and 
promised  Ning-Po  that  never,  so  long  as  she 
lived,  should  she  be  put  into  the  corner  again ; 
so  after  that,  for  convenience'  sake,  Ning-Po  was 
always  called  the  best  child  in  the  family.  Now 
and  then,  when  Lota  felt  hospitable,  she  would 
give  a  tea-party,  and  ask  Lady  Green  and  her 
children  from  under  the  snow-ball  bush  next 
door.  Nobody  but  Lota  and  the  dolls  could  see 
the  Greens,  even  when  they  sat  about  the  table 
talking  and  being  talked  to,  but  that  was  no 
matter ;  and  when  Nursey  said,  "  Law,  Miss 
Lady  Bird,  how  can  you ;  there's  never  any 
such    people^   yo.     know,"   Lota   would   point 


144       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

triumphantly  to  a  card  tacked  on  to  the  snow- 
ball bush,  which  had  "  Lady  Green  "  printed  on 
it,  and  would  say,  "  Naughty  Nursey !  can't  you 
read  ?     There's  her  door-plate  !  " 

As  this  story  is  all  about  Lota,  I  tliink  I 
would  better  tell  you  just  how  she  spent  one 
week  of  her  life,  she  and  the  dolls. 

The  week  began  with  Sunday,  which  was 
always  a  dull  day,  because  Lota  was  forbidden 
to  go  into  the  garden. 

In  the  morning  she  went  to  church  with 
Grandmamma,  drawn  thither  by  two  fat  old  black 
horses,  who  seemed  to  think  it  almost  too  much 
trouble  to  switch  the  flies  off  with  their  tails. 
Church  was  warm  and  the  sermon  was  drowsy, 
so  poor  Lady  Bird  fell  asleep,  and  tumbled  over 
suddenly  on  to  Grandmamma's  lap.  This  dis- 
tressed the  old  lady  a  good  deal,  for  she  was 
very  particular  about  behavior  in  church.  By 
way  of  punishment.  Lota  had  to  learn  four  verses 
of  a  hymn  after  dinner.  It  was  the  hymn  which 
begins,  — 

*'  Awake,  my  soul,  and  with  the  sun 
Thy  daily  course  of  duty  run,'' 


LADY    BIRD.  145 

and  learning  it  took  all  the  time  from  dinner 
till  four  o'clock. 

The  hymn  learned  and  repeated,  Lota  read 
foi  awhile  in  one  of  her  Sunday  books.  She  was 
ashamed  of  her  sleepiness  in  the  morning,  and 
had  every  intention  of  being  very  good  till  bed- 
time 3  but  unluckily  she  looked  across  to  where 
the  dolls  were  sitting,  and,  as  she  explained  to 
Nursey  afterward,  Pocahontas  Maria  was  whis- 
pering to  Imogene,  and  both  of  them  were 
laughing  so  hard  and  looking  so  mischievous 
that  she  had  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  Re- 
sult;—at  five,  Jennings,  coming  to  call  Lota, 
found  her  with  all  the  dolls  in  a  row  before 
her  teaching  them  hymns.  And,  though  this 
seems  most  proper,  Jennings,  who  was  a  strict 
Methodist,  did  not  think  so  ;  so  Lota  had  an- 
other lecture  from  Grandmamma,  and  went  to 
bed  under  a  sense  of  disgrace.  So  much  for 
Sunday. 

Monday  opened  with  bright  sunshine.  It 
had  rained  all  night ;  but  by  eleven  o'clock  the 

10 


146  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

dear  old  garden  was  quite  dry^  and  how  sweet 
it  did  look !  The  pink  roses  twinkled  and 
winked  their  whisker-like  calyxes  as  she  went 
by ;  the  white  ones  shook  their  serene  leaves^ 
and  sent  out  delicious  smells.  Every  green 
thing  looked  greener  than  it  had  done  before 
the  rain.  The  blue  sky^  swept  clear  of  clouds, 
seemed  to  have  been  rubbed  and  made  brilliant. 
It  was  a  day  for  gardens ;  and  Lady  Bird  and 
her  family  celebrated  it  by  a  picnic,  to  which 
they  invited  all  the  Greens. 

''  Lady  Green  hasn't  treated  me  quite  prop- 
erly/' remarked  Lota  to  her  oldest  child,  Poca- 
hontas. "  She  didn't  leave  her  card  at  this 
house  I  don't  know  when.  But  we  won't  mind 
about  that,  because  it's  such  a  nice  day,  and 
we  want  the  picnic.  And  we  can't  have  the 
picnic  without  the  Greens,  you  know,  dear, 
because  there  aren't  any  other  people  to  invite." 

So  they  had  the  picnic,  —  a  delightful  one. 
The  young  Greens  behaved  badly.  They  almost 
always  did  behave  badly  when   they  came  to 


LADY    BIRD.  147 

f,ee  Lady  Bird ;  but  it  was  rather  a  good  thing, 
because  she  could  warn  her  own  children  that, 
if  they  did  the  same,  they  would  be  severely 
punished.  "Lady  Green  is  too  indulgent/' 
she  would  say.  "I  want  my  children  to  be 
much  gooder  than  hers.  Mind  that,  Imogene." 
So,  on  this  occasion,  when  Clarissa  Green 
snatched  at  the  rose-cakes  which  formed  the 
staple  of  the  feast.  Lota  looked  very  sharply  at 
Stella,  and  said,  "  Don't  let  me  ever  see  you  do 
so,  Stella,  or  I  shall  have  to  slap  your  little 
hands."  Stella  heeded  the  warning,  and  sat 
upright  as  a  poker  and  perfectly  still. 

Clarissa  was  perhaps  not  so  much  to  blame, 
for  the  rose-cakes  were  delicious.  Would  you 
like  Lady  Bird's  recipe  ?  Any  little  girl  can 
make  them.  Take  a  good  many  rose-leaves; 
put  some  sugar  with  them,  —  as  much  sugar 
as  you  can  get;  tie  them  up  in  paper^  or  in 
a  good  thick  grape-leaf ;  lay  them  on  a  bench, 
and  sit  down  on  them  hard  several  times: 
then  they  are  done.      Some  epicures  pretend 


148  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

that  they  must  be  buried  in  the  ground,  and 
left  there  for  a  week ;  but  this  takes  time,  and 
reasonable  children  will  find  them  quite  good 
enough  without.  These  particular  rose-cakes 
were  the  best  Lota  had  ever  made.  The  whole 
party,  Greens  and  all,  agreed  to  that.  For  the 
rest  of  the  feast  there  was  a  motto-paper,  which 
had  ornamented  several  picnics  before.  It  could 
not  be  eaten,  but  it  looked  well  sitting  in  the 
middle  of  the  table.  At  the  close  of  the  ban- 
quet all  the  party  sang  a  song.  Lady  Green's 
voice  was  not  very  good,  but  Lota  explained 
to  the  children  afterward  that  it  isn't  polite 
to  laugh  at  company  even  when  they  do  make 
funny  squeaks  with  their  high  notes.  Poca- 
hontas had  to  sit  in  the  corner  awhile  for  having 
done  so.  She  was  sorry,  and  promised  never 
\\j  offend  again ;  as  a  reward  for  which,  her 
Mamma  gave  her  a  small  blank  book  made  of 
writing-paper  and  a  pin,  which  she  told  her  was 
for  her  very  own. 

"  You  are  such  a  big  girl  now,"  said  Mamma 


LADV   BIRD.  149 

Lota,  "that  it  is  time  you  began  to  keep  a 
Diary  like  1  do.  I  shall  read  it  over  every  day^ 
and  see  how  you  spell." 

Here  is  Pocahontas  Maria's  journal  as  it  stood 
on  Tuesday  afternoon^  after  the  children  had 
done  their  lessons  and  had  their  dinners  :  — 

"  Tuseday.  I  am  going  to  keep  a  Diry  like 
Mamma's.  Studded  as  usel.  Mamma  said  I 
was  cairless,  and  didn't  get  my  jography  lesson 
propperly.  Stella  had  hers  better  than  me.  I 
hurt  my  ellbow  against  the  table.  It  won't 
bend  any  more.  Mamma  is  going  to  get  Doctor 
Jacob  to  put  in  a  woulden  pin.  I  hope  it  won't 
hurt." 

"  Oh,  Pocahontas  !  Pocahontas !  "  cried  the 
scandalized  Lady  Bird  as  she  read  this  effusion. 
"  After  all  the  pains  I  have  taken,  to  think  you 
should  spell  so  horridly  as  this."  Then  she  sat 
down  and  corrected  all  the  words.  "  I  don't  won- 
der your  cheeks  are  so  red/'  she  said  severely. 
Pocahontas  sat  up  straight  and  blushed,  but 
made  no  excuses.     It  is  not  strange  that  Lota, 


150        NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

who  really  spelt  very  nicely  for  a.  little  girl  of 
her  age,  should  have  been  shocked. 

On  Tuesday  night  it  rained  again,  and  iLe 
sun  got  up  in  a  cloud  next  morning,  and  seemed 
uncertain  whether  or  not  to  shine.  Grandmamma 
was  going  to  drive  out  to  make  a  call,  and  Jen- 
nings came  early  to  the  nursery  to  tell  Nurse  to 
dress  Lady  Bird  nicely,  so  that  she  might  go  too. 
Accordingly  Nursey  put  on  Lota's  freshest  white 
cambric  and  her  best  blue  sash,  and  laid  a  pair 
of  white  gloves  and  a  little  hat  trimmed  with 
blue  ribbons  and  forget-me-nots  on  the  bed,  so 
that  they  might  be  ready  when  the  carriage 
came  to  the  door.  '^.Now,  Miss  Lady  Bird,  you 
must  sit  still  and  keep  yourself  very  nice,"  she 
said.  This  was  hard,  for  the  children  had  all 
been  left  in  the  garden-house  the  night  before, 
and  Lota  wanted  very  much  to  see  them.  She 
stood  at  the  window  looking  wistfully  out.  By 
and  by  the  sun  flashed  gloriously  from  the  clouds, 
and  sent  a  bright  ray  right  into  her  eyes.  Tt 
touched   the  rain-drops  which   hung   over   the 


LADY    BIRD.  151 

bushes^  and  instantly  each  became  a  tiny  mimic 
sun,  sending  out  separate  rays  of  its  own.  Lota 
forgot  all  about  Nursey's  injunctions.  "I'll  just 
run  out  one  minute  and  fetch  little  Ning-Po  in/' 
she  thought.  "  That  child's  too  dehcate  to  be 
left  out  in  the  damp.  She  catches  cold  so 
easily;  really  it  quite  troubles  me  sometimes 
the  way  she  coughs." 

So  down  the  garden  walk  she  sped.  The 
shrubs,  shaken  by  her  swift  passage,  scattered 
showers  of  bright  drops  upon  the  white  frock 
and  the  pretty  sash.  But  Lota  didn't  mind  or 
notice.  The  air  and  sun,  the  clear,  fresh  feel- 
ing, the  birds'  songs,  filled  her  with  a  kind  of 
intoxication.  Her  head  spun,  her  feet  danced 
as  she  ran  along.  Suddenly  a  cold  feeling  at 
the  toes  of  her  bronze  boots  startled  her.  She 
looked  down.  Behold,  she  was  in  a  pool  of 
water,  left  by  the  rain  in  a  hollow  of  the  gravel- 
walk.  Was  she  frightened  ?  Not  at  all.  The 
water  felt  delightfully  fresh,  her  spirits  flashed 
out  like  the  sun  himself,  and  in  the  joy  of  her 


152  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

heart  she  began  to  waltz^  scattering  and  splash- 
ing the  water  about  her.  The  crisp  ruffles  of 
the  cambric  lost  all  their  starch,  the  pretty  boots 
were  quite  spoiled,  but  Lota  waltzed  on,  and  in 
this  plight  Nursey,  flying  indignantly  out  from 
the  kitchen  door,  found  her  naughty  pet. 

"  Well,  Miss  Charlotte,  I  am  discouraged,"  she 
said,  as  she  pulled  off  the  wet  things.  "  Waltz- 
ing in  a  mud-puddle !  That's  nice  work  for  a 
young  lady !  I  am  discouraged.  Miss  Charlotte." 

Nursey  never  said  "Miss  Charlotte"  except 

on   the   most   solemn  occasions,  so  Lota  knew 

that   she  was  very  vexed.      She   should   have 

been  cast  down  by  this,  but'  somehow  she  was 

not. 

"But    /'m    not    discouraged,"    she    replied. 

"I'm   not   discouraged   a  bit!     And  the  birds 

aren't  discouraged !      They  sang  all  the  while 

I  was  waltzing  in  the  mud-puddle,  Nursey;  I 

heard  'em ! " 

Nursey   gave  it  up.      She  loved  Lady  Bird 

dearly,  and  could  not  bear  to  scold  her  or  to 


LADY    BIRD.  153 

have  any  one  else  do  so.  So  she  made  haste  to 
change  the  unlucky  frock  and  shoes,  so  that  she 
should  be  neat  and  trim  whenever  Grandmamma 
sent  for  her.  I  suppose  this  forbearance  touched 
Lota's  heart,  for  at  the  last  moment  she  turned, 
ran  back,  threw  her  arms  round  Nursey's  neck, 
and  whispered,  "  I'm  sorry,  and  I'll  never  waltz 
in  mud-puddles  again."  Nursey  squeezed  her 
hard  by  way  of  answer.  '*  Precious  lamb  !  "  she 
said,  and  Lota  ran  downstairs  quite  happy. 

The  lady  whom  Grandmamma  drove  out  to 
see,  had  a  little  granddaughter  visiting  her. 
Isabel  Bernard  was  her  name.  She  came  from 
the  city,  and  was  so  beautifully  dressed  and  so 
well-mannered,  that  Grandmamma  took  quite  a 
fancy  to  her,  and  invited  her  to  spend  a  day 
with  Lota. 

"  Charlotte  will  enjoy  a  young  companion," 
said  Grandmamma.  So  the  next  day  was  fixed 
upon. 

This  was  a  very  exciting  event  for  the  Bird 
family,  who  rarely  had  any  visitors  except  Lady 


154  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

Green,  who  did  not  county  being  such  a  near 
neighbor.  Pocahontas  wrote  in  her  journal, 
''  A  grand  lady  is  coming  to  see  Mamma.  Me 
and  all  of  us  are  going  to  have  on  our  best 
frocks.  I  hope  she'll  think  us  pretty ; "  and 
though  Lota  told  her  that  little  girls  ought  not 
to  mind  about  being  pretty  if  only  they  obey 
their  mammas  and  are  good,  the  sentiment  was 
so  natural  that  she  really  hadn't  the  heart  to 
scold  the  child  much.  The  baby-house  was 
swept  and  garnished  for  the  occasion,  a  fresh 
batch  of  rose-cakes  was  made,  and  a  general  air 
of  festivity  pervaded  the  premises. 

Lota  hoped  that  Isabel  would  come  early, 
soon  after  breakfast,  so  as  to  have  a  longer  day ; 
but  it  was  quite  twelve  o'clock  before  she  made 
her  appearance,  all  alone  by  herseK  in  a  huge 
barouche,  which  made  her  seem  scarcely  larger 
than  a  doll.  She  wore  a  fine  frilled  muslin 
frock  over  blue  silk,  a  white  hat,  and  dainty 
lemon-colored  boots.  When  Lota,  feeling  shy 
at  the  spectacle  of  this  magnificence,  proposed 
going  into  the  garden,  she  hun^  back. 


LADY    BIRD,  155 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  that  it  isn't  damp  ?  "  she 
said,  "  because  —  you  see  —  this  is  my  best 
frock." 

"  Oh,  quite  sure/'  pleaded  Lota.  "  The  grass 
was  cut  only  day  before  yesterday,  and  Jacob 
rolled  the  gravel  last  night.  Do  come  !  The 
children  want  to  see  you  so  much." 

"  The  children !  "  said  Isabel,  surprised.  But 
"when  she  saw  the  doll-family  sitting  in  a  row 
with  their  best  clothes  on,  and  their  four  pairs 
of  j&xed  blue  eyes  looking  straight  before  them, 
she  laughed  scornfully. 

"  Do  you  play  with  dolls  ? "  she  asked.  "  I 
gave  them  up  long  ago." 

Lady  Bird's  eyes  grew  large  with  distress. 
"  Oh,  don't  call  them  thaty'  she  cried.  ^'  I  never 
do.    It  hurts  their  feelings  so.    You  can't  think." 

Isabel  laughed  again.  She  wasn't  at  all  a 
nice  girl  to  play  with.  The  rose-cakes  she  pro- 
nounced "  nast3\"  When  Lota  explained  about 
Lady  Green,  she  stared  and  said  it  was  ridicu- 
lous, and  that  there  w^as  no  such  person.     She 


156  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

turned  up  her  nose  at  Pocahontas's  journal,  and 
declared  ihvijf.  Lota  wrote  it  herself !  "  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  such  a  thing  ?  "  asked  Lady  Bird 
afterward  of  Lady  Green.  ^^As  if  my  child 
could  not  write  !  "  It  was  just  so  all  day.  The 
only  thing  Isabel  seemed  to  enjoy  was  dining  in 
state  with  Grandmamma,  and  answering  all  hei 
questions  with  the  air  of  a  little  grown-up 
woman.  Grandmamma  said  she  was  a  very  well- 
behaved  child,  and  she  wished  Charlotte  would 
take  pattern  by  her.  But  Lota  didn't  agree 
with  Grandmamma.  She  hoped  with  all  her  heart 
that  Isabel  would  never  come  to  visit  her  again. 

Pocahontas  Maria  wrote  in  her  journal  next 
day:  — 

"  The  lady  who  came  to  see  Mamma  wasn't 
very  nice,  I  think.  She  didn't  even  speak  to 
us  children,  and  she  made  fun  at  my  diry.  We 
didn't  like  her  a  bit.  Stella  says  she's  horrid, 
and  Ning-Po  hopes  Mamma  won't  ever  ask  her 
any  more."  Lady  Bird  reproved  Pocahontab 
very  gravely  for  these  sentiments,  and  reminded 


LADY    BIRD.  157 

her  again  that  "  diry  "  is  not  the  way  to  spell 
diary ;  but  she  said  to  Lady  Green,  who  dropped 
in  for  a  call,  "  Poor  little  thing,  I  don't  wonder  ! 
children  always  find  out  when  people  isn't  nice ; 
and  Isabel;  she  was  very  disagreeable,  you  know, 
calling  them  '.  dolls '  and  things  like  that !  It's 
not  surprising  that  they  didn't  like  her,  I'm 
sure." 

Saturday  was  an  eventful  day.  There  were 
no  lessons  to  do  for  one  thing,  because  Nursey's 
daughter  had  come  to  see  her,  and  Grandmamma 
said  Lady  Bird  might  be  excused  for  once. 
This  gave  her  the  whole  morning  to  attend  to 
domestic  matters,  which  was  nice,  or  would  have 
been,  only  unluckily  little  Stella  took  this  oppor- 
tunity to  break  out  with  measles.  Of  course 
Lady  Bird  was  much  distressed.  She  put  Stella 
to  bed  at  once,  and  sent  the  others  to  the  far- 
thest side  of  the  room  lest  they  should  catch  the 
disease  also,  "  though,"  as  she  told  Pocahontas, 
"You'll  be  sure  to  have  it.  It  always  runs 
straight  through  families ;  the  doctor  said  [^o  wLvivi 


158        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

I  had  it ;  and  whatever  I  shall  do  with  all  of  you 
on  my  hands  at  once,  T  can't  imagine."  There  is 
always  a  great  deal  to  do  in  times  of  sickness,  so 
this  was  a  very  busy  day.  Lota  had  to  make 
broth  for  Stella,  to  concoct  medicine  out  of 
water  and  syringa-stems,  to  prepare  dinner  for 
the  other  children,  and  hear  all  their  lessons,  for 
of  course  education  must  not  be  neglected  let 
who  will  have  measles !  Pocahontas  was  unusu- 
ally troublesome.  Imogene  cried  over  the  spell- 
ing lesson;  and  altogether  Lady  Bird  had  her 
hands  full  that  morning. 

"  I  shall  certainly  send  you  all  away  to  board- 
ing-school if  you  don't  learn  to  behave  better," 
she  cried  in  despair,  at  which  awful  threat  the 
children  wept  aloud  and  promised  to  be  good. 
Then  came  dinner,  —  real  dinner,  I  mean,  — 
which  Lady  Bird  could  scarcely  eat,  so  anxious 
was  she  about  her  sick  child  in  the  garden.  The 
moment  it  was  over  back  she  flew,  oblivious  of 
the  charms  of  raisins  and  almonds.  Stella  was 
asleep,  but   she   evidently  had   fever,   for   her 


LADY    BIRD.  159 

cheeks  were  bright  pink,  and  her  h'ps  as  red  as 
sealing-wax. 

''  I  must  have  a  doctor  for  her,"  cried  poor 
Lady  Bird. 

She  tried  to  think  what  article  would  be 
best  to  choose  for  the  doctor,  and  fixed  on  an 
old  black  muff  of  Nursey's  which  lived  on  the 
shelf  of  the  nursery  closet.  To  get  it,  however, 
it  was  needful  to  leave  the  children  again. 

"  You  must  all  be  good,"  she  said,  fussing 
about  and  tidying  the  room,  "  very  good  and 
very  quiet,  so  as  not  to  wake  up  Stella.  Dear 
me,  what  a  queer  smell  there  is  here  !  Let  me 
think.  What  did  Nursey  do  when  I  had  measles  ? 
She  burned  some  sort  of  paper  and  made  it  smell 
nice  again.  I  must  burn  some  paper  too,  else 
Stella  11  suffocate,  won't  you,  dear  ?  " 

No  sooner  thought  than  done.  Jacob  had 
left  Ids  coat  hanging  near  the  tool-house  while 
he  went  to  dinner,  and  he  always  carried  matches 
in  his  pipe-pocket.  Lady  Bird  knew  that.  She 
put  her  hand  in  and  drew  one  out,  feeling  guilty, 


160  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

for  one  of  Nursey's  chief  maxims  was,  "Ne\^er 
touch  matches,  Lady  Bird;  remember  what  I 
say,  never !  " 

"If  Nursey  knew  about  Stella's  having  the 
measles  she'd  say    different/'  she  soliloquized. 

There  was  a  good-sized  bit  of  brown  paper  in 
the  garden-house.  Lota  rolled  it  up,  laid  it 
near  the  bedside,  lit  the  edge,  and  carefully  blew 
out  the  match.  The  paper  did  not  flame,  but 
smouldered  slowly,  sending  up  a  curl  of  smoke. 
Lady  Bird  gazed  at  it  with  much  satisfaction, 
then,  with  a  last  kiss  to  Stella,  she  went  away  to 
fetch  the  doctor,  stopping  at  Lady  Green's  door 
as  she  passed,  to  tell  her  that  she  had  better  not 
let  any  of  her  children  come  over,  because  they 
might  catch  the  measles  and  be  sick  too. 

It  took  some  time  to  rummage  out  the  muff, 
for  Nursey  had  tucked  it  far  back  on  the  shelf 
behind  other  things.  There  was  nobody  in  the 
nursery.  Something  unusual  seemed  to  be 
going  on  downstairs,  for  doors  were  opening 
fUid  shutting,  and  persons  were  talking  and  ex- 


LADY   BIRD,  161 

claiming.  Lota  paid  no  attention  to  this;  her 
head  was  full  of  her  own  affairs,  and  she  had  no 
time  to  spend  on  other  people's.  Muff  in  hand, 
she  hastened  down  the  garden  walk.  As  she 
drew  near  she  smelt  smoke,  and  smiled  with 
satisfaction.  But  the  smell  grew  stronger,  and 
the  air  was  blue  and  thick.  She  became  alarmed, 
and  began  to  run.  Another  moment,  and  the 
house  was  in  sight.  Smoke  was  pouring  from 
the  door,  from  the  window,  and  —  what  was  that 
red  thing  which  darted  out  from  the  smoke  like 
a  long  tongue  ?  Oh,  Lady  Bird  !  Lady  Bird !  fly, 
hasten,  your  house  is  on  fire,  and  there  are  the 
children  inside  with  none  but  you  to  aid  them ! 

Did  ever  mother  hesitate  when  her  little  ones 
were  in  danger?  Lady  Bird  did  not.  With 
a  shriek  of  affright  she  plunged  boldly  into  the 
midst  of  the  smoke.  An  awful  sight  met  her  eyes 
through  the  open  door.  The  wall-paper  was  on 
fire,  the  cotton  rug,  the  table-cover !  Little  red 
flames  were  creeping  up  the  valance  of  the  crib 
in  which  poor  sick  Stella  lay !     The  other  chil- 


162  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

dren  were  sitting  in  a  row  opposite,  very  calm 
and  still,  but  blisters  had  begun  to  form  on 
Imogene's  waxen  cheeks,  and  a  cinder,  lodged 
on  Ning-Po's  flaxen  wig,  was  scorching  and 
singeing.  What  a  spectacle  to  meet  a  mother's 
eyes !     Oh,  Lady  Bird,  haste  to  the  rescue ! 

She  did  not  falter.  In  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye  she  had  dashed  into  the  burning  room,  had 
caught  Stella  from  her  bed,  the  others  from  their 
chairs,  and  with  all  four  hugged  tight  to  her 
heart  was  making  for  the  door.  Ah !  a  spark 
fell  on  the  white  apron,  on  the  hoUand  frock ! 
Her  rapid  movement  fanned  it.  It  flickered, 
blazed,  the  red  flame  rushed  upward.  What 
would  have  happened  I  dare  not  think,  if  just 
at  that  moment  a  gentleman,  who  was  hastening 
down  the  garden  walk,  had  not  caught  sight  of 
the  little  figure,  and,  with  a  horrified  exclama- 
tion, seized,  held  it  fast,  wrapped  round  it  a  great 
woollen  shawl  from  his  own  shoulders,  and  in 
one  moment  put  out  the  deadly  fire  which  was 
snatching  at  the  sweet  young  life.     Who  was 


LADY    BIRD.  163 

this  gentleman,  do  you  think,  thus  arrived  at 
the  very  nick  of  time  ?  Why,  no  other  than 
Lady  Bird's  own  Papa,  come  heme  from  China 
a  few  weeks  before  any  one  expected  him ! 

I  cannot  pretend  to  describe  all  that  followed 
on  that  bewildering  day,  the  dismay  of  Grand- 
mamma and  Nursey,  the  wrath  of  Jennings 
over  the  match,  the  joy  of  everybody  at  Lady 
Bird's  escape,  or  her  own  confusion  of  mind  at 
the  fire  and  the  excitement  and  the  new  Papa, 
who  was  and  was  not  the  Papa  of  the  letters. 
At  first  she  hugged  the  rescued  dolls  and  said 
nothing.  But  Papa  gave  her  time  to  get  used 
to  him,  and  she  soon  did  so.  He  was  very 
kind  and  nice,  and  did  not  laugh  at  the  children 
and  call  them  names  as  Isabel  had  done,  but 
felt  Stella's  pulse,  recommended  pomatum  for 
the  scorch  on  Imogene's  forehead,  and  even 
produced  a  little  out  of  his  own  dressing-case. 
Best  of  all,  he  led  Lady  Bird  upstairs,  unlocked 
a  box  and  showed  her  a  beautiful  little  Chinese 
lady  in  purple  silk  and  lovely  striped  muslin 
trowsers,  which  he  had  broug:ht  for  her. 


164       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

"  Another  child  for  you  to  take  care  of/'  said 
Papa. 

Pocahontas  Maria  wrote  in  her  Diary  the 
next   day :  — 

"  My  Grandpapa  has  come  home  from  China. 
He  is  very  nice.  He  brought  me  a  little  Chi- 
nese sister.  Her  name  is  Loo  Choo,  he  says, 
but  Mamma  calls  her  Loo  Loo,  because  it  sounds 
prettier.  Grandpapa  treats  us  very  kindly,  and 
never  says  '  dolls/  as  Isabel  Berners  did ;  and  he 
went  to  call  on  Lady  Green  with  Mamma.  I'm 
so  glad  he  is  come." 

When  Lady  Bird  read  this  she  kissed  Poca- 
hontas and  said, — 

"  That's  right,  dear  ;   so  am  I !  " 


ONE,   TWO,   BUCKLE   MY   SHOE. 

The  old  clock  on  the  stairs  was  drowsy.     Its 
ticks,  now  lower,  now  louder,  sounded  like  the 


166  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

breathings  of  one  asleep.  Now  and  then  came 
a  distincter  tick,  which  might  pass  for  a  httle 
machine-made  snore.  As  striking-time  drew 
near,  it  roused  itself  with  a  quiver  and  shake. 
^^One,  two,  three,  four,  five,"  it  rang  in  noisy 
tones,  as  who  should  say,  "^  Behold,  I  am  wide 
awake,  and  have  never  closed  an  eye  all  night." 
The  sounds  sped  far.  Marianne  the  cook  heard 
them,  rubbed  her  eyes,  and  put  one  foot  out  of 
bed.  The  nurse,  Louisa,  turned  over  and  began 
to  dream  that  she  was  at  a  wedding.  Perhaps 
the  sun  heard  too,  for  he  stood  up  on  tip-toe  on 
the  edge  of  the  horizon,  looked  about  him,  then 
launched  a  long  yellow  ray  directly  at  the  crack 
in  the  nursery  shutter.  The  ray  was  sharp :  it 
smote  full  on  Archie's  eyelids,  as  he  lay  asleep, 
surrounded  by  "  Kobinson  Crusoe,"  two  red  ap- 
ples, a  piece  of  gingerbread,  and  a  spade,  all  of 
which  he  had  taken  to  bed  with  him.  When  he 
felt  the  prick  of  the  sun-ray  he  opened  his  eyes 
wide.  "  Why,  morning's  come  !  "  he  said,  and 
without  more  ado  raised  himself  and  sat  up. 


ONE,    TWO,   BUCKLE   MY  SHOE,  167 

^^What'U  I  do  to-day?"  he  thought.  "\ 
know,  ril  go  into  the  wood  and  build  a  house, 
a  nice  little  house,  just  like  Wobinson  Cwusoe's, 
all  made  of  sticks.  Nobody'U  know  where  my 
house  is ;  I'll  not  tell,  not  even  Mamma,  where 
it  is.  Then  when  I  don't  want  to  study  or  any 
thing,  I  can  run  away  and  hide,  and  they  won't 
know  where  to  find  me.  That'll  be  nice !  I 
guess  I'll  go  and  begin  it  now,  'cause  the  days 
are  getting  short.  Papa  said  so  once.  I  wonder 
what  makes  'em  get  short?  Pr'aps  sometime 
they'll  be  so  short  that  there  won't  be  any  days 
at  all,  only  nights.  That  wouldn't  be  pleasant, 
I  think.  Mamma'd  have  to  buy  lots  of  candles 
then,  or  else  we  couldn't  see." 

With  this  he  jumped  out  of  bed. 

"  I  must  be  very  quiet,"  he  thought,  "  else 
Loo  —  isa'U  hear,  and  then  she  won't  let  me  go 
till  I've  had  my  bekf ast.  Loo  —  isa's  real  cross 
sometimes ;  only  sometimes  she's  kind  when 
she  makes  my  kite  fly." 

His  clothes  were  folded  on  a  chair  by  the 


168       NINE   LITTLE    GOSLINGS, 

bedside.  Archie  had  never  dressed  himself 
before,  but  he  managed  pretty  well,  except  that 
he  turned  the  small  ruffled  shirt  wrong-side  out. 
The  other  things  went  on  successfully.  There 
were  certain  buttons  which  he  could  not  reach, 
but  that  did  not  matter.  The  small  stocking 
toes  were  folded  neatly  in,  all  ready  to  slip  on  to 
the  feet.  But  the  shoes  were  a  difficulty  ;  they 
fastened  with  morocco  bands  and  buckles,  and 
Archie  couldn't  manage  them  at  all. 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  wish 
Loo  —  isa  would  come  and  buckle  my  shoes  for 
me.  No,  I  don't,  though,  'cause  p'raps  she'd 
say,  ^  Go  back  to  bed,  naughty  boy;  it  isn't 
time  to  get  up.'  I  wouldn't  like  that.  Some- 
times Loo  —  isa  does  say  things  to  me." 

So  he  put  on  the  shoes  without  buckling 
them,  and,  not  stopping  to  brush  his  hair  or 
wash  his  face,  he  clapped  on  his  broad-brimmed 
straw  hat,  took  "  Eobinson  Crusoe "  and  the 
spade,  dropped  the  red  apples  and  the  ginger- 
brea/i  into  his  pocket,  and  stole  softly  down- 


ONE,    TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE.  1G9 

stairs.  The  little  feet  made  no  noise  as  they 
passed  over  the  thick  carpets.  Marianne,  who 
was  lighting  the  kitchen  fire  and  clattering  the 
tongs,  heard  nothing.  He  reached  the  front 
door,  and,  stretching  up,  pulled  hard  at  the  bolt. 
It  was  stiff,  and  would  not  move. 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  sighed  Archie,  "  I  wish  some- 
body would  come  and  open  this  door  for  me." 

He  looked  at  the  bolt  a  minute.  Then  an 
idea  struck  him,  and,  laying  ^^Eobinson  Crusoe  " 
and  the  little  spade  down  on  the  floor,  he  went 
into  the  dining-room  pantry,  where  was  a 
drawer  with  tools  in  it. 

"-  I'll  get  Papa  s  hammer,"  he  thought  to  him- 
self, "  and  I'll  pound  that  old  bolt  to  pieces." 

While  he  was  gone,  Marianne,  who  had 
lighted  her  fire,  came  from  the  kitchen  with  a 
broom  in  her  hand.  She  opened  the  door, 
shook  the  mat,  and  began  to  sweep  the  steps. 
A  sharp  tinkle,  tinkle  met  her  ear  from  the 
back  gate.  It  was  the  milkman  ringing  for 
some  one  to  come  and  take  in  the  milk.     Mari- 


170  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

anne  set  her  broom  agairiKst  the  side  of  the  door, 
and  hurried  back  to  the  kitchen.  Her  foot 
struck  against  "  Eobinson  Crusoe  "  as  she  went. 
She  picked  it  up  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

"  Why,  the  door's  open  !  "  exclaimed  Archie, 
who  at  that  moment  came  from  the  dining- 
room,  hammer  in  hand. 

He  did  not  trouble  himself  to  speculate  as 
to  how  the  door  happened  to  be  open,  but, 
picking  up  the  spade,  wandered  forth  into  the 
garden.  The  gate  gave  no  trouble.  He  walked 
fast,  and  long  before  Marianne  came  back  to 
her  sweeping  he  had  gained  the  woods,  which 
were  near,  and  enclosed  the  house  on  two  sides 
in  a  shady  half -circle.  They  were  pretty  woods, 
full  of  flowers  and  squirrels  and  winding,  puz- 
zling paths.  Archie  had  never  been  allowed  to 
go  into  them  alone  before. 

The  morning  was  delicious,  so  full  of  snap 
and  sunshine  that  it  set  him  to  dancing  and 
skipping  as  he  went  along.  All  the  wood- 
flowers  were   as  wide   awake   as    he.       They 


ONE,    TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE,  171 

nodded  at  Archie,  as  if  saying  "  Good-morning/' 
and  sent  out  fresh  smells  into  the  air.  Busj 
birds  flapped  and  flew,  doing  their  marketing, 
and  fetching  breakfast  to  hungry  nestlings, 
chirping  and  whistling  to  each  other,  as  they 
did  so,  that  the  sun  was  up  and  it  was  a  fine 
day.  A  pair  of  striped  squirrels  frisked  and 
laughed  and  called  out  something  saucy  as 
Archie  trotted  by.  None  of  these  wild  things 
feared  the  child :  he  was  too  small  and  too 
quick  in  his  movements  to  be  fearful.  They 
accepted  him  as  one  of  themselves,  —  a  feather- 
less  bird,  or  a  squirrel  of  larger  growth ;  while 
he,  on  his  part,  smiled  vaguely  at  them  and 
hurried  past,  intent  on  his  projects  for  a  house 
and  careless  of  every  thing  else. 

The  sun  rose  higher  and  higher.  But  the 
thick  branching  trees  kept  off  the  heat,  and  the 
wood  remained  shady  and  cool.  The  paths 
twisted  in  and  out,  and  looped  into  each  other 
like  a  tangled  riband.  No  grown  person  could 
have   kept   a   straight   course  -  in   their   mazes. 


172  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

Archie  did  not  even  try,  but  turned  to  right 
or  to  left  just  as  it  happened,  taking  always 
the  path  which  looked  prettiest,  or  which  led 
into  deepest  shade.  If  he  saw  anywhere  a 
particularly  red  checkerberry,  he  went  that 
way ;  otherwise  it  was  all  one  to  him  where  he 
went.  So  it  came  to  pass  that,  by  the  end  of 
an  hour,  he  was  as  delightfully  and  completely 
lost  as  ever  little  boy  has  succeeded  in  being 
since  woods  grew  or  the  world  was  made. 

"1  dess  this  is  a  nice  place  for  my  house," 
he  said  suddenly,  as  the  path  he  had  been  fol- 
lowing led  into  a  small  open  space,  across  which 
lay  a  fallen  tree,  with  gray  moss,  which  looked 
like  hair,  hanging  to  its  trunk.  It  was  a  nice 
place;  also,  Archie's  feet  were  tired,  and  he 
was  growing  hungry,  which  aided  in  the  deci- 
sion. The  ground  about  the  fallen  tree  was 
carpeted  with  thick  mosses.  Some  were  bright 
green,  with  stems  and  little  branches  like  tiny, 
tiny  pine-trees.  Others  had  horn-shaped  cups 
©f   yellow   and   fiery   red.      Others    still   were 


ONE,    TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE,  173 

briglit  beautiful  brown,  while  here  and  there 
stood  round  cushion-shaped  masses  which  looked 
as  soft  as  dow^n. 

Into  the  very  middle  of  one  of  these  pretty 
green  cushions  plumped  Archie.  He  rested 
liis  back  against  a  tree  trunk,  and  gave  a  sigh 
of  comfort.  It  was  like  an  easy  chair,  except 
that  it  had  no  arms  ;  but  what  does  a  little  boy 
want  of  arms  to  chairs  ?  He  put  his  hand  into 
his  pocket  and  pulled  out,  first  the  red  apples, 
and  then  the  gingerbread.  The  gingerbread 
was  rather  mashed ;  but  it  tasted  most  delicious, 
only  there  was  too  little  of  it, 

"  I  wish  I'd  brought  a  hundred  more  pieces," 
.soliloquized  Archie,  as  he  nibbled  the  last 
crumb.      "  One  isn't  half   enough  bekfast." 

The  red  apples,  however,  proved  a  consola- 
tion; and,  quite  rested  and  refreshed  now,  he 
jumped  from  the  moss  cushion  and  prepared  to 
begin  his  house-building. 

"  First,  I  must  pick  up  some  sticks,"  he 
thought,  —  "a  great  many,  many  sticks,  heaps 


174  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

of  'em.  Then  I'll  hammer  and  make  a  house. 
Only  —  I  haven't  got  any  nails/'  he  added  with 
ail  after-thought. 

There  were  plenty  of  sticks  to  be  had  in  that 
part  of  the  wood ;  twigs  and  branches  from  the 
dead  tree,  fragments  of  bark,  odds  and  ends  of 
dry  brush.  Close  by  stood  a  white  birch.  The 
thin,  paper-like  covering  hung  loose  on  its  stem, 
like  grey-white  curls.  Archie  could  pull  off 
large  pieces,  and  he  enjoyed  this  so  much  that  he 
pulled  till  the  birch  trunk,  as  far  up  as  he  could 
reach,  was  perfectly  bare.  Some  of  the  boughs 
were  crooked.  Archie  tried  to  lay  them  straight 
with  the  others,  but  they  wouldn't  fit  in  nicely, 
and  stuck  their  stiff  angles  out  in  all  directions. 

"  Those  are  naughty  sticks,"  said  Archie, 
giving  the  crookedest  a  shove.  "They  shan't 
go  into  my  house  at  all." 

The  want  of  naUs  became  serious  as  the  heap 
of  wood  grew  large  and  Archie  was  ready  to 
build.  What  was  the  use  of  a  hammer  without 
nails  ?     He  tried  various  ways.     At  last  he  laid 


ONE,    TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE.  175 

the  longest  boughs  in  a  row  against  the  side  of 
the  fallen  tree.  This  left  a  little  place  beneath 
their  slope  into  which  it  was  possible  to  creep. 
Archie  smiled  with  satisfaction,  and  proceeded 
to  thatch  the  sloping  roof  with  moss  and  bits  of 
bark.  Then  he  grubbed  up  the  green  cushion 
and  transferred  it  bodily  to  his  house. 

"This'U  be  my  chair/'  he  said  to  himself. 
"  I  dess  I  don't  want  any  more  f urnture  except 
just  a  chair.  Loo  —  isa,  she  said,  '  so  many 
things  to  dust  is  a  bodder.' " 

At  that  moment  came  a  rustling  sound  in 
the  underbrush.  "  P'raps  it's  savages/'  thought 
Archie,  and,  half  pleased,  half  frightened  at  the 
idea,  he  gave  a  loud  whoop.  Out  flew  a  fat 
motherly  hen,  cackling  and  screaming.  What 
she  was  doing  there  in  the  woods  I  cannot 
imagine.  Perhaps  she  had  lost  her  way.  Per- 
haps she  had  private  business  there  wliich  only 
hens  can  understand.  Or  it  may  be  that  she, 
too,  had  built  a  little  house  and  hidden  it  away 
so  that  no  one  should  know  where  it  was. 


176       NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

Archie  was  enchanted-  "  A  hen^  a  hen/'  he 
cried.  "I'll  catch  her  and  keep  her  for  my 
own.  Then  I'll  have  eggs,  and  I'll  give  'em  to 
Mamma,  and  I'll  make  custards.  Custards  iS 
made  of  eggs.     Loo  —  isa  said  so." 

"  Chicky,  chicky,  chicky/'  he  warbled  in  a 
winning  voice,  waving  his  fingers  as  if  he  were 
sprinkling  corn  on  the  ground  for  the  hen  to 
eat.  But  the  hen  was  not  to  be  enticed  in  that 
manner,  and,  screaming  louder  than  ever,  ran 
into  the  bushes  again.  Then  Archie  began  to 
nm  too.  Twice  he  almost  seized  her  brown 
wings,  but  she  slipped  through  his  hands.  Had 
the  hen  been  silent  she  would  easily  have 
escaped  him,  bu.t  she  cackled  as  she  flew,  and 
that  guided  him  along.  His  shoe  came  off, 
next  the  hammer  flew  out  of  his  hand,  but  he 
did  not  stop  for  either.  Kunning,  plunging, 
diving,  on  he  went,  the  frightened  hen  just 
before,  till  at  last  a  root  tripped  him  up  and 
he  fell  forward  on  his  face.  The  hen  van- 
\s^^A  into  the  thicket.     Her  voice   died  away 


ONE,    TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE,  177 

in  distance.  By  the  time  Archie  had  picked 
himself  up  there  was  not  even  the  rusthng  of  a 
leaf  to  show  which  way  she  had  gone. 

He  rose  from  the  ground  disconsolate.  His 
nose  bled  from  the  fall^  and  there  was  a  bump 
on  his  forehead,  which  ached  painfully.  A 
strong  desire  to  cry  came  over  him.  But,  like 
a  brave  fellow,  he  would  not  give  way  to  it,  and 
sat  down  under  a  tree  to  rest  and  decide  what 
was  to  be  done  next. 

"I'll  go  back  again  to  my  house,"  was  his 
decision.  But  where  was  the  house  ?  He  ran 
this  way,  that  way ;  the  paths  all  looked  alike. 
The  house  had  vanished  hke  the  hen.  Archie 
had  not  the  least  idea  which  way  he  ought  to 
turn  to  find  it. 

One  big  tear  did  force  its  way  to  his  eyes 
when  this  fact  became  evident.  House  and 
hen,  it  was  hard  to  lose  both  at  once.  The 
hammer,  too,  was  gone.  Only  the  spade  re- 
mained, and,  armed  with  this,  Archie,  like  a 
true  hero,  started  to  find  a  good  place  and  build 

12 


178  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

another  house.  Surely  nowhere,  save  m  the 
histories  of  the  great  Boston  and  Chicago  fires, 
is  record  to  be  found  of  parallel  pluck  and  de- 
termination \ 

House-building  was  not  half  so  easy  in  this 
part  of  the  wood  where  he  then  was,  for  the 
bushes  were  thick  and  stood  closely  together. 
Their  branches  hung  so  low,  that,  small  as 
Archie  was,  he  had  to  bend  forward  and  walk 
almost  double  to  avoid  having  his  eyes  scratched 
by  them.  At  last,  in  the  middle  of  a  circle  of 
junipers,  he  found  a  tolerably  free  space  which 
he  thought  would  do.  The  ground,  however, 
was  set  thick  with  sharp  uncomfortable  stones, 
and  the  first  thing  needed  was  to  get  rid  of 
them. 

So  for  an  hour,  with  fingers  and  spade,  Archie 
dug  and  delved  among  the  stones.  It  was  hard 
work  enough,  but  at  last  he  cleared  a  place 
somewhat  larger  than  his  small  body,  which  he 
carpeted  with  soft  mosses  brought  from  another 
pai't  of  the  wood.     This  done,  he  lay  down  flat 


ONE,    TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE.  179 

on  his  back,  and  looked  dreamily  up  at  the 
pretty  green  roof  made  by  the  juniper  boughs 
overhead.  '^  I  dess  I'll  take  a  nappy  now/'  he 
murmured,  and  in  five  minutes  was  sleeping  as 
soundly  as  a  dormouse.  Two  striped  squirrels, 
which  may  or  may  not  have  been  the  same 
which  he  had  seen  in  the  early  morning,  came 
out  on  a  bough  not  a  yard  from  his  head,  chat- 
tered, winked,  put  their  paws  to  their  noses 
and  made  disrespectful  remarks  to  each  other 
about  the  motionless  figure.  Birds  flew  and 
sang,  bees  hummed,  the  wind  went  to  and  fro 
in  the  branches  like  the  notes  of  a  low  song. 
But  Archie  heard  none  of  these  things.  The 
hen  herself  might  have  come  back,  cackled  her 
best,  and  flapped  her  wings  in  his  very  face 
without  arousing  him,  so  deep  was  his  slumber. 

Meantime  at  home,  two  miles  away,  there 
was  great  commotion  over  the  disappearance 
of  Master  Archie.  Marianne  had  lingered  quite 
a  long  time  at  the  back  gate.  The  milkman 
was   a   widower,   looking  out  for   a  wife,  and 


180       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

Marianne,  as  she  said,  could  skim  cream  with 
anybody ;  so  it  was  only  natural  that  they 
should  have  a  great  deal  to  say  to  eacli  other, 
and  that  measuring  the  milk  at  that  particular 
gate  should  be  a  slow  business.  This  morning 
their  talk  was  so  interesting  that  twenty  min- 
utes at  least  went  by  before  Marianne,  with 
very  rosy  cheeks  and  very  bright  eyes,  came 
back,  pail  in  hand,  along  the  garden  walk.  As 
she  took  up  the  broom  to  finish  her  sweeping, 
she  heard  a  great  commotion  overhead,  steps 
running  about,  voices  exclaiming  ;  but  her  mind 
was  full  of  the  milkman,  and  she  paid  no  atten 
tion,  till  Louisa  came  flying  downstairs,  half- 
dressed,  and  crying,  — 

"  Sake's  alive,  Marianne,  where's  Master  Ar* 
cliie?" 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  Not  down  here,  any* 
way,"  was  Marianne's  reply. 

^^But  he  must  be  down  here,"  persisted 
Louisa.  "  He's  gone  out  of  the  nursery,  and  so 
are  his  clothes.     Whatever's  taken  him  I  can't 


ONE,   TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE.  181 

imagine.  I've  searched  the  closetSj  and  looked 
under  the  beds,  and  up  in  the  attic,  and  I  took 
Mr.  Gray  his  hot  water,  and  he  isn't  there. 
His  spade's  gone  too,  and  his  ap  —  Oh,  mercy  ! 
1  here's  his  story-book  now,"  and  she  pounced  on 
'^Robinson  Crusoe,"  where  it  lay  on  the  table. 
''-  He's  been  down  here  certain  sure,  for  that  book 
was  on  his  bed  when  he  went  to  sleep  last  night. 
Don't  stand  there,  Marianne,  but  come  and  help 
me  find  him." 

Into  the  parlor,  the  dining-room,  the  pantry, 
ran  the  maids,  calling  "  Archie !  Archie  ! "  at 
the  tops  of  their  voices.  But  Archie,  who  as  we 
know  was  a  good  mile  away  by  that  time,  did 
not  hear  them.  They « searched  the  kitchen,  the 
cellar,  the  wood-shed,  the  store-closet.  Marianne 
even  lifted  the  Kd  of  the  great  copper  boiler  and 
peeped  in  to  make  sure  that  he  was  not  there  ! 
Louisa  ran  wildly  about  the  garden,  looking  be- 
hind currant  bushes  and  raspberry  vines,  and 
parting  the  tall  feathers  of  the  asparagus  lest 
A^rchie  should  have  chosen  to  hide  among  them. 


182        NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

She  tapped  the  great  green  watermelons  with 
her  fingers  as  she  passed,  —  perhaps  she  fancied 
that  Archie  might  be  stowed  away  inside  of 
one.  All  was  in  vain.  Archie  was  not  behind 
the  currant  bushes,  not  even  in  the  melon  patch. 
Louisa  began  to  sob  and  cry,  Marianne,  never 
backward,  joined  her  with  a  true  Irish  howl ; 
and  it  was  in  this  condition  that  Archie's  Papa 
found  things  when  he  came  downstairs  to  break- 
fast. 

Then  ensued  a  fresh  confusion. 

"  Where  did  you  say  the  book  was  lying, 
Louisa?"  said  Mr.  Gray,  trying  to  make  out 
the  meaning  of  her  sobbing  explanation. 

"  Just  here,  sir,  on  the  hall  table.  Oh,  the 
darhng  child,  whatever  has  come  to  him  ?  " 

"-  Oh,  wurra  !  wurra  !  "  chimed  in  Marianne. 
'^  He  been  and  got  took  away  by  wicked  people, 
perhaps.     We'll  niver  get  him  back,  niver !  " 

"  The  hall  table  ?  Then  he  must  have  passed 
out  this  way.  Surely  you  must  have  seen  him 
or  heard  him  open  the  door,  Marianne  ?  " 


ONE,    TWO,   BUCKLE  MY  SHOE,  183 

"  Is  it  I  see  him^  sir  ?  I'd  niver  forget  it  if  1 
had.  Oh^  the  pretty  face  of  him !  Wurra ! 
wiirra ! " 

^^Butj  now  I  think  of  it,  the  child  couldn't 
have  opened  the  door  for  himself/'  went  on 
Papa,  growing  impatient.  ^^Did  you  leave  it 
standing  open  at  all,  Marianne  ?  " 

"  Only  for  a  wee  moment  while  I  fetched  m 
the  milk,"  faltered  Marianne,  growing  rosy-red 
as  she  reflected  on  the  length  of  the  "  moment " 
which  she  had  passed  at  the  gate  with  the  milk- 
man. 

"  That  must  have  been  the  time,  then,"  said 
Mr.  Gray.  "  Probably  the  little  fellow  has  set 
off  by  himself  for  a  walk.  I'll  go  after  and  look 
for  him.  '  Don't  frighten  Mrs.  Gray  when  she 
comes  down,  Louisa,  but  just  say  that  Archie 
and  I  are  both  gone  out.  Try  to  look  as  you 
usually  do." 

This,  however,  was  beyond  Louisa's  powers. 
Her  eyes  were  as  red  as  a  ferret's,  and  her  cheeks 
the  color  of  purple  cherries  from  crying  and  ex- 


184  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

citemeiit  of  mind.  Mrs.  Gray  saw  at  once  that 
something  was  wrong.  She  began  to  question, 
Louisa  to  cry,  and  the  secret  came  out  in  a  burst 
of  sobs  and  tears.  "Master  Archie  —  bless  his 
little  heart !  —  has  got  out  of  bed  and  ran  away 
into  the  woods.  The  master  was  gone  after 
him,  but  he'd  niver  find  him  at  all  at  all "  — 
(this  was  Marianne's  addition).  "  The  tramps 
had  him  fast  by  this  time,  no  doubt.  They'd 
niver  let  him  go." 

"  How  could  he  get  away  all  by  himself  ?  " 
asked  poor  frightened  Mrs.  Gray. 

"  Ah,  who  knows  ?  Like  as  not  the  thaves 
came  into  the  room  and  lifted  him  out  of  his 
very  bed.  They're  iverywhere,  thim  tramps  ! 
There's  no  providing  against  thim.  Oh,  howly 
St.  Patrick  !  who'd  have  thought  it  ?  " 

This  happy  idea  of  tramps  having  lodged 
itself  in  Marianne's  mind,  the  story  grew  rapidly. 
The  butcher  was  informed  of  it  when  he  came, 
the  fishmonger,  and  the  grocer's  boy.  By  noon 
all  the  village  had  heard  the  tale,  and  farmers' 


ONE,    TWO    BUCKLE  MY  SHOE,  185 

wives  for  ten  miles  round  were  shuddering  over 
these  horrible  facts,  that  three  men  in  black 
masks,  with  knives  as  long  as  your  arm,  had 
broken  into  Mr.  Gray's  house  at  midnight,  gag 
ged  the  family,  stowed  the  silver  and  money  in 
pillow-cases,  taken  the  little  boy  from  his  bed,  — 
that  pretty  little  boy  with  curly  hair,  you  know, 
my  dear,  —  and,  paying  no  attention  to  his 
screams  and  cries,  had  carried  him  off  nobody 
knew  where.  Poor  Mrs.  Gray  was  half  dead 
with  grief,  of  course,  and  Mr.  Gray  had  gone  in 
pursuit ;  but  law !  my  dear,  he'll  never  catch 
'em,  and  if  he  did,  what  could  he  do  against 
three  men  ? 

"  He'd  a  ought  to  have  taken  the  constable 
with  him,"  said  old  Mrs.  Fidgit,  "  then  perhaps 
he'd  have  got  him  back.  I  guess  the  thieves 
won't  keep  the  boy  long  though,  he's  too  troub- 
lesome !  His  ma  sent  him  over  once  on  an 
errand,  and  I'd  as  lieve  have  a  wild-cat  in  the 
house  any  day.  Mark  my  word,  they'll  let  hun 
drop  pretty  soon !  " 


186        NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

As  the  day  went  on,  Louisa  began  to  disbelieve 
this  theory  about  robbers.  It  was  Marianne's 
theory  for  one  thing  ;  for  another,  she  recollected 
that  Archie  must  have  taken  his  apples  and 
gingerbread  with  him,  and  his  spade.  "  Is  it 
likely  that  thieves  would  stop  to  pack  up  things 
like  that  ?  "  she  asked  Marianne,  who  was  highly 
indignant  at  the  question.  The  afternoon  came, 
still  Mr.  Gray  had  not  returned,  and  there  were 
no  tidings  of  Archie.  Mrs.  Gray,  half  ill  with 
anxiety  and  headache,  went  to  her  room  to  lie 
down.  Marianne  was  describing  the  exact  ap- 
pearance of  the  imaginary  robbers  to  a  crony, 
who  stood  outside  the  kitchen  window.  "  Six 
foot  high,  ivery  bit,  and  a  face  as  black  as  chim- 
ney sut,"  Louisa  heard  her  say.  "  Pshaw,''  she 
called  out ;  but  sitting  still  became  unbearable  ; 
and  the  motion  of  her  needle  in  and  out  of  the 
work  made  her  feel  half  crazy.  She  flung  down 
the  work,  — it  was  a  jacket  for  Archie, — and, 
tying  on  her  bonnet,  set  off  by  herself  in  the 
direction  of  the  woods.     Where  she  was  going 


ONE,    TWO,   BUCKLE   MY  SHOE.  187 

she  did  not  know^  —  somewhere,  anywhere,  to 
seal  oh  for  her  lost  boy! 

The  Wind  wood  paths  puzzled  Louisa  more 
tlian  they  had  puzzled  Archie  in  the  morning; 
for  she  wanted  to  keep  her  way,  which  he  did 
not.  She  lost  it,  however,  continually.  Her 
eyes  were  scratched  by  boughs  and  brambles, 
the  tree  roots  tripped  her  up,  her  dress  caught 
in  a  briar  and  was  torn.  "  Archie  !  Archie  !  " 
she  cried,  as  she  went  along.  Her  voice  came 
back  from  the  forest  in  strange  echoing  tones 
which  made  her  start.  At  last,  after  winding 
and  turning  for  a  long  time,  she  found  herself 
again  upon  the  main  path,  not  far  from  the 
place  where  she  had  entered  the  wood.  She 
was  hot,  tired,  and  breathless ;  her  voice  was 
hoaise  with  crying  and  calling.  "  I'll  wait  here 
awhde,"  she  thought.  ^^  Perhaps  the  blessed 
little  dear'U  come  this  way;  but,  whether  he 
does  or  not,  I'm  too  tired  to  move  another  step 
till  I've  had  some  rest."  She  found  a  smooth 
place  imder  an  oak,  sat  down,  and  leaned  her 
back  against  the  stem. 


188  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

''  Cheep,  cheep,  chickeree, "  sang  one  bird 
to  another.  "  What  a  stupid  girl  that  is !  1 
could  tell  her  which  way  to  go.  Why,  there's 
tJie  mark  of  his  big  foot  on  the  moss  close  by. 
Why  doesn't  she  see  it  and  follow  ?  Cheep, 
cheep." 

"  Cluck,  cluck,  whirr,  whillahu,"  sang  the 
other  bird.     "  Human  beings  are  too  stupid." 

Poor  stupid  Louisa,  her  eyes  blurred  with 
tears,  did  not  heed  the  birds'  songs  or  under- 
stand those  plain  directions  for  finding  Archie 
which  they  were  so  ready  to  give.  The  tree 
trunk  felt  comfortable  against  her  back.  The 
air  came  cool  and  spicy  from  the  wood  depths 
to  steal  the  smart  from  her  hot  face.  The 
rustle  of  the  leaves  was  pleasant  in  hei  ear. 
So  the  faithful  maid  waited. 

Mr.  Gray  meantime  had  tracked  Archie  for  a 
little  way  by  the  traces  of  his  small  feet  on  the 
dewy  grass.  Then  the  marks  became  too  con- 
fused to  help  him  longer ;  he  lost  the  track, 
and,  after  a  long  and  weary  walk,  found  himself 


ONE,    TWO,   BUCKLE  MY  SHOE.  189 

on  the  far  side  of  the  wood,  near  a  little  village. 
There  he  hired  a  wagon,  and  dro^'e  home  ;  re- 
solving to  rouse  the  neighbors,  and  give  the 
wood  a  thorough  search,  even  should  it  i^ep 
them  out  all  night. 

While  he  was  bargaining  for  his  wagon  in  the 
distant  vUlage,  Archie,  in  the  midst,  of  his  nest 
of  moss,  was  waking  up.  He  had  slept  three 
hours,  and  so  soundly  that,  at  first  arousing,  he 
could  not  in  the  least  remember  where  he  was. 
He  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  stared  about  him  won- 
deringly.  "  Why,  I'm  out  in  the  woods !  "  he 
said  in  a  surprised  voice.  Gradually  he  recol- 
lected how  he  had  built  the  house,  chased  a 
hen,  and  lost  his  hammer.  This  last  accident 
troubled  him  a  little.  "  Papa  said  I  mustn't 
touch  that  big  hammer  ever,"  he  thought  to 
himself,  "  'cause  I'd  be  sure  to  spoil  it.  Bat  I'll 
tell  him  it  isn't  spoiled,  and  he  can  pick  it  up 
and  put  it  back  into  the  drawer;  then  he  won't 
mind." 

One  of  iho  striped  squirrels  came  down  ivi.vix 


190        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

a  bough  overhead,  and  stopped  just  in  front  of 
the  place  where  Archie  sat.  Archie  looked  at 
him;  he  looked  at  Archie.  The  squirrel  put 
its  paws  together  and  rubbed  its  nose.  It 
chipper ed  a  minute,  twinkled  its  bead-like  eyes, 
then,  with  a  final  flick  of  its  tail,  it  was  off, 
and  up  the  tree  again  like  a  flash.  Archie 
looked  after  it  delighted. 

"^  What  a  pretty  bunny !  "  he  said  out  loud. 

'^  Now  I'll  go  home,"  was  his  next  remark, 
getting  suddenly  up  from  the  ground. 

The  cause  of  this  resolution  was  a  little  gnaw- 
ing sensation  which  had  begun  within  him  and 
was  getting  stronger  every  moment.  In  other 
words,  he  was  hungry.  Gingerbread  and  apples 
do  not  satisfy  Httle  boys  as  roast  beef  does. 
Archie's  stomach  was  quite  empty,  and  began 
to  cry  with  an  unmistakable  voice,  "•  I  want  my 
dinner,  I  want  my  dinner.  Give  me  my  din- 
ner quick,  or  I  shall  do  something"  desperate." 
Everybody  in  the  world  has  to  listen  when 
voices  like  these  begin  to  sound  inside  of  them. 


ONE,    TWO,   BUCKLE  MY  SHOE,  191 

All  at  once  home  seemed  the  most  attractive 
spot  in  the  world  to  Archie.  Visions  of  Mamma 
and  bread  and  milk  and  a  great  plate  full  of 
something  hot  arose  before  his  eyes,  and  an 
immense  longing  for  these  delights  took  posses- 
sion of  him.  So  he  shouldered  his  spade  and 
set  forth,  not  having  the  least  notion  —  poor 
little  soul !  —  as  to  which  side  home  lay,  but 
believing,  with  the  confidence  of  childhood,  that 
now  he  wanted  to  go  that  way,  the  way  was 
sure  to  be  easily  found.  Refreshed  by  his  long 
sleep,  he  marched  sturdily  on,  taking  any  path 
which  struck  his  eye  first. 

There  is  a  pretty  picture  —  I  wonder  if  any 
of  you  have  ever  seen  it?  —  in  which  a  little 
child  is  seen  walking  across  a  narrow  plank 
which  bridges  a  deep  chasm,  while  behind  flies 
a  tall,  beautiful  angel,  with  a  hand  on  either 
side  the  child,  guiding  it  along.  The  child  does 
not  see  the  angel,  and  walks  fearlessly ;  but  the 
heavenly  hands  are  there,  and  the  little  one  is 
safe.      It  may  be  that  just  such  a  good  angel 


192       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

flew  behind  our  little  Archie  that  afternoon  to 
guide  him  through  the  mazes  of  the  wood. 
Certain  it  is  that,  without  knowing  it,  he  turned, 
or  something  turned  him,  in  the  direction  of 
home.  It  was  far  for  such  small  feet  to  go,  and 
he  made  the  distance  farther  by  straying,  now 
to  left  and  now  to  right;  but,  after  each  of 
these  strayings,  the  unseen  hands  brought  him 
back  again  to  the  right  path  and  led  him  on. 
He  did  not  stop  to  play  now,  for  the  hungry 
voices  grew  louder  each  minute,  and  he  was  in 
a  hurry  to  get  home.  Speculations  as  to  whether 
dinner  would  be  all  eaten  up  crossed  his  mind. 
"  But  I  dess  not,"  he  said  confidently,  "  'cause 
it  isn't  very  long  since  morning."  It  was  really 
four  in  the  afternoon,  but  Archie's  long  nap 
had  cheated  the  time,  and  he  had  no  idea  that 
it  was  so  late. 

The  path  grew  wider,  and  was  hedged  with 
barberries  and  wild  roses.  The  lovely  pink  of 
the  roses  pleased  Archie's  eye.  He  stopped 
and  tugged  at  a  great  branch  till  it  broke,  then 


ONE.    TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE,  193 

he  laid  it  across  his  shoulder  to  carry  to  Mamma. 
Suddenly^  as  he  tramped  along^  a  gasp  and 
exclamation  was  heard^  and  a  tall  figure  rose  up 
from  under  a  tree  and  caught  him  in  its  arms. 
It  was  Louisa,  who  had  fallen  half  asleep  at  her 
post,  and  had  been  roused  by  the  sound  of  the 
well-known  little  feet  as  they  went  by. 

^^  Master  Archie,  dear/'  she  cried,  sobbing, 
^  how  could  you  run  away  and  scare  us  so  ? '' 

"  Why,  it's  Loo — isa,"  said  Archie  wonder- 
ingly.  "Did  you  come  out  here  to  build  a 
house  too,  Loo — isa  ?  " 

"Where  liar^e  you  been?"  clamored  Louisa, 
holding  him  tight  in  her  arms. 

"  Oh,  out  there,"  explained  Archie,  waving 
his  hand  toward  the  woods  generally. 

"How  could  you  slip  away  and  frighten 
Nursey  so,  and  poor  Mamma  and  Papa  ?  Papa's 
been  all  the  day  hunting  you.  And  where  are 
you  going  now?" 

"  Home  !  Stop  a  squeezing  of  me,  Loo — isa. 
I  don't  like  to  be  squeezed.  Has  the  dinner- 
bell  runged  yet?     I  want  my  dinner." 

13 


194        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

"  Dinner !  Why  it's  most  evening,  Mnstei 
Archie.  And  nobody  could  eat,  because  we 
was  so  frightened  at  your  being  lost." 

"  I  wasn't  lost !  "  cried  Archie  indignantly. 
'^  I  was  building  %  house.  Come  along,  Loo — isa, 
I'll  show  you  the  way." 

So  Archie  took  Louisa's  hand  and  led  her 
along.  Neither  of  them  knew  the  path,  but 
they  were  in  the  right  direction,  and  by  and 
by  the  trees  grew  thinner,  and  they  could  see 
where  they  were,  on  the  edge  of  Mr.  Plimpton's 
garden,  not  far  from  home. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray  were  consulting  together 
on  the  piazza,  when  the  click  of  the  gate  made 
them  look  up,  and  behold!  the  joyful  Louisa, 
displaying  Archie,  who  walked  by  her  side. 

"  Here  he  is,  ma'am,"  she  cried.  "  I  found 
him  way  off  in  the  wood.     He'd  run  away." 

"1  didn't,"  said  Archie,  squirming  out  of  his 
mother's  arms.  "  I  was  building  houses.  And 
you  didn't  find  me  a  bit.  Loo — isa.  I  found 
you,  and  I  showed  you  the  way  home ! " 


ONE,    TWO,  BUCKLE  MY  SHOE,  195 

'^  Never  mind  who  found  who,  so  long  as  we 
have  our  little  runaway  back/'  said  Mr.  Gray, 
stooping  to  kiss  Archie.  "Another  time  we 
must  have  a  talk  about  boys  who  go  to  build 
houses  without  leave  from  their  Mamma's  and 
Papa's,  and  make  everybody  anxious.  Mean- 
time, I  fancy  somebody  I  know  about  is  half- 
starved.  Tell  Marianne  to  send  some  dinner  in 
at  once,  Louisa." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  will."  And  Louisa  hastened  off 
to  triumph  over  her  friend  Marianne. 

"  Archie,  darhng,  how  could  you  go  away  and 
frighten  us  so  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Gray,  taking  him 
in  her  lap. 

"Why,  Mamma,  were  you  frightened?"  re- 
plied Archie  wonderingly.  "I  was  building  a 
house.  It's  a  heau-MivX  house.  I'll  let  you 
come  and  sit  in  it  if  you  want  to.  And  I've 
got  a  hen,  and  111  give  you  all  the  eggs  she 
lays,  to  cook,  you  know.  Only  the  hen's  runned 
away,  and  I  couldn't  find  my  house  any  more, 
and  the  hammer  tumbled  down,  and  I  lost  my 


196       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

shoe.  I  know  where  the  hammer  is,  I  dess,  and 
to-morrow  I'll  go  back  and  get  it/"- — Here  the 
expression  of  Archie's  face  changed.  Louisa 
had  appeared  at  the  door  with  a  plate  of  some- 
thing which  smelt  excessively  nice,  and  sent  a 
little  curl  of  steam  into  the  air.  She  beckoned. 
He  jumped  down  from  Mamma's  lap,  ran  to  the 
door,  and  both  disappeared.  Nothing  more  was 
heard  of  him  except  his  feet  on  the  stairs,  and 
by  and  by  the  sound  of  Louisa's  rocking-chair, 
as  she  sat  beside  his  bed  singing  Archie  to  sleep. 
Mamma  and  Papa  went  in  together  a  little  later 
and  stood  over  their  boy. 

"  Oh,  the  comfort  of  seeing  him  safe  in  his 
little  bed  to-night ! "  said  Mrs.  Gray. 

Eoused  by  her  voice,  Archie  stirred.  "  I  dess 
I  know  where  the  hammer  is,"  he  said  drowsily. 
Then  his  half-opened  eyes  closed,  and  he  wagi 
sound  asleep. 


RIDE  A   COCK-HORSE. 

It  was  a  drizzly  day  in  the  old  market-town  of 
Banbury.     The  clouds  hung  low  :  all  the  world 


198  NINE  LllTLE  GOSLINGS, 

was  wrapped  in  sulky  mist.  When  the  sun 
tried  to  shine  out,  as  once  or  twice  he  did,  his 
face  looked  like  a  dull  yellow  spot  against  the 
sky,  and  the  clouds  hurried  up  at  once  and  ex- 
tinguished him.  Childien  tapped  on  window 
panes,  repeating  — 

*'  Rain,  rain,  go  away, 
Come  again  some  other  day.'* 

But  the  rain  would  not  take  the  hmt,  and  after 
awhile  the  sun  gave  up  his  attempts,  hid  his 
head,  and  went  away  disgusted,  to  shine  some- 
where else. 

"  It's  too  bad,  it's  too  bad !  "  cried  Alice  Flower, 
the  Mayor's  httle  daughter,  looking  as  much  out 
of  sorts  as  the  weather  itself. 

''  You  mustn't  say  too  bad.  It  is  God  who 
makes  it  rain  or  shine,  and  He  is  always  right," 
remarked  her  Aunt. 

"Yes  —  I  know,"  replied  Alice  in  a  timid 
voice.  "But,  Aunty,  I  did  want  to  go  to  the 
picnic  very  much." 

"  So  did  I.  We  are  both  disappointed,"  said 
Aunty,  smiling. 


RIDE    A    COCK-HORSE.  199 

^^But  rm  the  most  disappointed/'  persisted 
Alice,  "  because  you're  grown  up,  you  know,  and 
I  haven  t  any  thing  pleasant  to  do.  All  my 
dolFs  spring  clothes  are  made,  and  I've  read  my 
story-books  till  I'm  tired  of  'em,  and  I  learned 
my  lessons  for  to-morrow  with  Miss  Boyd  yester- 
day, because  we  were  going  to  the  picnic.  Oh, 
dear,  what  a  long  morning  this  has  been !  It 
feels  like  a  week." 

Just  then.  Toot!  toot!  toot!  sounded  from 
the  street  below.  Alice  hurried  back  to  the 
window.  She  pressed  her  nose  close  to  the 
glass,  but  at  first  could  see  nothing;  then,  as 
the  sound  grew  nearer,  a  man  on  horseback 
rode  into  view.  He  was  gorgeously  dressed  in 
black  velveteen,  with  orange  sleeves  and  an 
orange  lining  to  his  cloak.  He  carried  a  brass 
trumpet,  which  every  now  and  then  jie  lifted  to 
his  lips,  blowing  a  long  blast.  This  was  the 
sound  which  Alice  had  heard. 

Following  the  man  came  a  magnificent  scarlet 
chariot,  drawn  by  ten  black  horses  with  scarlet 


200  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

trappings  and  scarlet  feathers  in  their  heads. 
Each  horse  was  ridden  by  a  little  page  in  a 
costume  of  emerald  green.  The  chariot  was 
full  of  musicians  in  red  uniforms.  They  held 
umbrellas  o\er  their  instruments,  and  looked 
sulky  because  of  the  rain,  which  was  no  wonder. 
Still,  the  effect  of  the  whole  was  gay  and  dazzling. 
Behind  the  chariot  came  a  long  procession  of 
horses,  black,  gray,  sorrel,  chestnut,  or  marked 
in  odd  patches  of  brown  and  white.  These 
horses  were  ridden  by  ladies  in  wonderful  blue 
and  silver  and  pink  and  gold  habits,  and  by 
knights  in  armor,  all  of  whom  carried  umbrellas 
also.  Pages  walked  beside  the  horses,  waving 
banners  and  shields  with  "  Visit  Currie's  World- 
Renowned  Circus  "  painted  on  them.  A  droll 
little  clown,  mounted  on  an  enormous  bay  horse, 
made  fun  of  the  pages,  imitated  their  gestures, 
and  rapped  them  on  the  back  with  his  riding- 
jstick  in  a  droll  way.  A  long  line  of  blue  and 
red  wagons  closed  the  cavalcade. 

But  pi'ettiest  of  all  was  a  little  girl  about  ten 


RIDE    A    COCK-HORSE,  201 

years  old,  who  rode  in  the  middle  of  the  proces- 
sion upon  a  lovely  horse  as  white  as  milk.  The 
horse  had  not  a  single  spot  of  dark  color  about 
him,  and  his  trappings  of  pale  blue  were  so 
slight  that  they  seemed  like  ribbons  hung  on 
his  graceful  limbs,  The  little  girl  had  hair  of 
bright,  pale  yellow,  which  fell  to  her  waist  in 
loose  shining  waves.  She  was  small  and  slender, 
but  her  color  was  like  roses,  and  her  blue  eyes 
and  sweet  pink  mouth  smiled  every  moment  as 
she  bent  and  swayed  to  the  motion  of  the  horse, 
which  she  managed  beautifully,  though  her  bits 
of  hands  seemed  almost  too  small  to  grasp  the 
reins.  Her  riding-dress  of  blue  was  belted  and 
buttoned  with  silver ;  a  tiny  blue  cap  with  long 
blue  plumes  was  on  her  head;  and  altoge'iher 
she  seemed  to  Alice  like  a  fairy  princess,  or  one 
of  those  girls  in  story-books  who  turn  out  to  be 
kings'  daughters  or  something  else  remarkable. 

"  0  Aunty !  come  here  do  come,"  cried  Alice. 

Just  then  the  procession  halted  directly  be- 
neath the  window.     The  trumpeter  took  off  his 


202       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

hat  and  made  a  low  bow  to  Alice  and  her  Aunt. 
Then  he  blew  a  final  blast,  rose  in  his  stirrups 
and  began  to  speak.  Miss  Flower  opened  the 
window  that  they  might  hear  more  distinctly. 
This  seemed  to  bring  the  pretty  little  girl  on 
the  horse  nearer.  She  looked  up  at  Alice  and 
smiled,  and  Alice  smiled  back  at  her. 
This  is  what  the  trumpeter  said  :  — 
'^Ladies  and  gentlemen, —  I  have  the  honor 
to  announce  to  you  the  arrival  in  Banbury  of 
Signor  James  Currie's  World-Renowned  Circus 
and  Grand  Unrivalled  Troupe  of  Equestrian 
Performers,  whose  feats  of  equitation  and  horse- 
manship have  given  unfeigned  delight  to  all 
the  courts  of  Europe,  her  Majesty  the  Queen, 
and  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  this  and  other 
countries.  Among  the  principal  attractions  of 
this  unrivalled  troupe  are  Mr.  Vernon  Twomley, 
with  his  famous  trained  steed  Bucephalus; 
Madame  Orley,  with  her  horse  Chimborazo,  who 
lacks  only  the  gift  of  speech  to  take  a  first  class 
at  the  University  of  Oxford;  M.  Aristide,  the 


KIDK    A    COCK-HORSE,  203 

adniired  trapezeist ;  Goo-Goo,  the  unparalleled 
and  side-splitting  clown ;  and  last,  but  not  least, 
Mademoiselle  Mignon,  the  child  equestrienne, 
whose  feats  of  agihty  are  the  wonder  of  the 
age !  On  account  of  Mr.  Currie's  unprece- 
dented press  of  engagements,  his  appearance 
in  Banbury  is  limited  to  a  single  performance, 
which  will  take  place  this  evening  under  the 
Company's  magnificent  tent,  in  the  Market  Place, 
behind  the  old  cross.  Come  one,  come  all! 
Performances  to  begin  at  eight  precisely.  Ad- 
mission, one-and-sixpence.  Children  under  ten 
years  of  age,  half  price.  God  save  the  Queen." 
Having  finished  this  oration,  the  trumpeter 
bowed  once  more  to  the  window,  blew  another 
blast,  and  rode  on,  followed  by  all  the  proces- 
sion ;  the  little  girl  on  the  white  horse  giving 
Alice  a  second  smile  as  she  moved  away.  For 
awhile  the  toot,  toot,  toot  of  the  trumpet  could 
be  heard  from  down  the  street.  Then  the 
sounds  grew  fainter.  At  last  they  died  in  dis- 
tance, and  all  was  quiet  as  it  had  been  before 


204  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

Alice  was  sorry  to  have  them  go.  But  the 
interruption  had  done  her  good  by  taking  her 
tho.ughts  away  from  the  rain  and  the  lost  picnic. 
She  could  think  and  talk  of  nothing  now  except 
the  gay  riders,  and  especially  the  pretty  httle 
girl  on  the  white  horse. 

"  Wasn't  she  sweet  ? ''  she  asked  her  Aunt. 
^^And  didn't  she  ride  heaui^ivXbf,  I  wish  I 
could  ride  like  that.  And  what  a  pretty  name, 
Mademoiselle  Mignon !  It  must  be  very  nice  to 
belong  to  a  circus,  I  think." 

"I'm  afraid  that  Mademoiselle  Mignon  does 
not  always  find  it  so  nice,"  remarked  Miss 
Flower. 

"0  Aunty,  what  makes  you  say  so?  She 
looks  as  if  she  were  perfectly  happy!  Didn't 
you  see  her  laugh  when  the  clown  stole  the 
other  man's  cap  from  his  head?  And  such  a 
dear  horse  as  she  was  riding !  I  never  saw  such 
a  dear  horse  in  all  my  life.  I  wish  I  had  one 
just  like  him." 

^'  It  was  a  beauty.     So  perfectly  white." 


KWE    A    COCK-HORSE,  205 

^^ Wasn't  it!  0  Aunty,  don't  yon  wish 
Papa  would  take  you  and  me  to  the  perform- 
ance? There  will  only  be  one,  you  know, 
because  Mr.  Currie  has  such  un  —  un  —  un- 
presidential  engagements.  I  mean  to  ask  Papa 
if  he  won't.  There  he  is  now !  I  hear  his  key 
in  the  door.  May  I  run  down  and  ask  him, 
Aunty  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed  —  " 

Downstairs  ran  Alice. 

"  0  Papa ! "  she  cried,  "  did  you  meet  the 
Circus  ?  It  was  the  most  wonderful  Circus,  Papa. 
Just  like  a  story-book.  And  such  a  dear  little 
girl  on  a  white  horse !  Won't  you  please  take 
me  to  see  it.  Papa — and  Aunty  too  ?  We  both 
want  to  go  very  much.  It's  only  here  for  one 
night,  the  man  said." 

"We'll  see,"  said  the  Mayor,  taking  off  his 
coat.  Alice  danced  with  pleasure  Avhen  she 
heard  this  "we'll  see,"  for  with  Papa  "we'll 
see  "  meant  almost  always  the  same  thing  as 
'•'  yes."     Alice  was  an  only  child,  and  a  petted 


206  NINE    LITTLE    GOSLINGS. 

one,  and  Papa  rarely  refused  any  request  on 
which  his  motherless  little  girl  had  set  her  heart. 

She  skipped  upstairs  beside  him,  full  of  satis- 
faction, and  had  just  settled  herself  on  his  knee 
for  the  half  hour  of  frolic  and  talk  which  was 
her  daily  delight  and  his,  when  a  knock  came 
to  the  door  below,  and  Phebe  the  maid  appeared. 

"  Two  persons  to  see  you,  sir." 

"  Show  them  in  here,"  said  the  Mayor.  Alice 
lingered  and  was  rewarded,  for  the  ''  persons  " 
were  no  other  than  Signor  Currie  himself  and 
his  ring-master.  Alice  recognized  them  at  once. 
Both  were  gorgeously  dressed  in  black  and 
orange  and  velvet-slashed  sleeves,  and  came  in 
holding  their  plumed  hats  in  their  hands.  The 
object  of  the  call  was  to  solicit  the  honor  of  the 
Mayor  s  patronage  for  the  evening's  entertain- 
ment. How  pleased  Alice  was  when  Papa  en- 
gaged a  box  and  paid  for  it ! 

"I  shall  bring  my  little  daughter  here,"  he 
told  Signor  Currie.  "-  She  is  much  taken  by  a 
child  whom  she  saw  to-day  among  your  per- 
formers." 


RIDE    A    COCK-HORSE,  207 

"Mademoiselle  Mignon,  no  doubt/'  replied 
the  Signor  solemnly.  ''  She  is,  indeed,  a  prod- 
igy of  talent,  —  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  age, 
I  assure  your  worship ! " 

"  Well,"  said  his  worship,  smiling,  "  we  shall 
gee  to-night.      Good-day  to  you." 

"  0  Papa,  that  is  delightful !  "  cried  Alice,  the 
moment  the  men  were  gone.  '^  How  I  wish  it 
were  evening  already !     I  can  scarcely  wait." 

Evenings  come  at  last,  even  when  waited 
for.  Alice  had  not  time,  after  all,  to  get 
Xiery  impatient  before  the  carriage  was  at  the 
door,  and  she  and  Papa  and  Aunty  were  in  it, 
rolling  away  toward  the  market-place.  Crowds 
of  people  were  going  in  the  same  direction. 
Half  the  Papas  and  Mammas  in  Banbury  had 
taken  their  boys  and  girls  to  see  the  show. 
There,  behind  the  market  cross,  rose  the  great 
tent,  a  flapping  red  flag  on  top.  Bright  lights 
streamed  from  within.  How  exciting  it  was ! 
The  tent  was  so  big  inside  that  there  was  plenty 
of  room  for  all  the  people  who  wished  to  come, 


208        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

and  more.  Eanges  of  benches  ran  np  till  they 
met  the  canvas  roof.  Below  were  the  boxes, 
hung  with  red  and  white  cloth  and  banners. 
Dazzling  lights  were  everywhere,  the  band  was 
playing,  from  behind  the  green  curtain  came 
sounds  of  voices  and  horses  whinnying  to  each 
other.  Alice  had  never  been  to  a  circus  before. 
It  seemed  to  her  the  most  beautiful  and  bewil- 
dering place  which  she  had  ever  imagined. 

By  and  by  the  performance  began.  How 
the  Banbury  children  did  enjoy  it !  The  clown's 
little  jokes  had  done  duty  in  hundreds  of  places 
before.  Some  of  them  had  even  appeared  in 
the  almanac!  But  in  Banbury  they  were  all 
new,  and  so  funny  that  everybody  laughed  till 
their  sides  ached.  And  the  wonderful  horses ! 
Madame  Orley's  educated  steed,  which  picked 
out  letters  from  a  card  alphabet  and  spelled 
words  with  them,  went  through  the  military 
drill  with  the  precision  of  a  trooper,  and  waltzed 
about  the  arena  with  his  mistress  on  his  back ! 
—  well,  he  was  not  a  horse;   he  was  a  wizard 


RIDE   A    COCK-HORSE,  209 

steed,  like  tlie  one  described  in  the  "  Arabian 
Nights  Tales."  Alice  almost  thought  she  de- 
tected the  little  peg  behind  his  ear ! 

She  shuddered  over  the  feats  of  the  sky-blue 
trapezeistj  who  seemed  to  do  every  thing  but 
fly.  The  knights  in  imitation  armor  were  real 
knights  to  Alice  ;  the  pink  and  gold  ladies  were 
veritable  damsels  of  romance,  undergoing  ad- 
ventures. But,  delightful  as  all  this  was,  she 
was  conscious  that  the  best  remained  behind, 
and  eagerly  watched  the  door  of  entrance,  in 
hopes  of  the  appearance  of  the  white  steed  and 
the  httle  rider  who  had  so  fascinated  her  imag- 
ination in  the  morning.  Papa  noticed  it,  and 
laughed  at  her ;  but,  for  all  that,  she  watched. 

At  last  they  came,  and  Alice  was  satisfied. 
Mignon  looked  prettier  and  daintier  than  ever 
in  her  light  fantastic  robe  of  white  and  spangles, 
with  silver  bracelets  on  her  wrists  and  little 
anklets  hung  with  bells  about  her  slender  an- 
kles. Eound  and  round  and  round  galloped 
the  white  horse,  the  fairy  figure  on  his  back 


210  NINE   LITTLE    GOSLINGS. 

now  standing,  now  lying,  now  on  her  knees, 
now  poised  on  one  small  foot,  or,  again,  dancing 
to  the  music  on  top  of  the  broad  saddle,  keeping 
exact  time,  every  movement  graceful  and  light 
as  that  of  a  happy  elf.  Hoops,  wreathed  with 
roses  and  covered  with  silver  paper,  were  raised 
across  her  path.  She  bounded  through  them 
easily,  smiling  as  she  sprang.  The  white  horse 
seemed  to  love  her,  and  to  obey  her  every 
gesture  ;  and  Mignon  evidently  loved  the  horse, 
for  more  than  once  in  the  pauses  Alice  saw 
her  pat  and  caress  the  pretty  creature.  At 
length  the  final  bound  was  taken,  the  last 
rose-wreathed  hoop  was  carried  away,  Mignon 
kissed  her  hand  to  the  audience  and  disappeared 
at  full  gallop,  the  curtain  fell,  and  the  ring- 
master announced  that  Part  First  was  ended, 
and  that  there  would  be  an  intermission  of 
fifteen  minutes. 

By  this  time  Alice  was  in  a  state  of  tumultu- 
ous admiration  which  knew  no  bounds. 

''  Oh,  if  I  could  only  speak  to  her  and  kiss 


FIDE    A    COCK-HORSE.  211 

her,  just  once  !  "  she  cried.  "  Isn't  she  the  dar- 
lingest  little  thing  you  ever  saw?  I  wish  1 
could.     Don't  you  think  they'd  let  me,  Papa  ?  " 

"Would  there  be  any  harm  in  it,  do  you 
think  ?  "  asked  the  Mayor  of  his  sister.  "  She's 
a  pretty,  innocent-looking  little  creature.'' 

"  I  don't  quite  like  having  Alice  associate 
with  such  people,"  objected  Miss  Flower.  Then, 
softened  by  the  wistful  eagerness  of  Alice's 
face,  she  added,  "  Still,  in  this  case,  the  child  is 
so  young  that  I  really  think  there  would  be  no 
harm,  except  that  the  manager  might  object 
to  having  the  little  girl  disturbed  between  the 
acts." 

"  I'll  inquire,"  said  Papa. 

The  manager  was  most  obliging.  Man- 
agers generally  are,  I  fancy,  when  Mayors 
express  wishes.  "  Mademoiselle  Mignon,"  he 
said,  "would  be  very  pleased  and  proud  to 
receive  Miss  Flower,  if  she  would  take  the 
trouble  to  come  behind  the  scenes."  So  Ahce, 
trembling   with     excitement,   went    with   Papa 


212  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

behind  the  big  green  curtain.  She  had  fancied 
it  a  sort  of  fairy  world ;  but  instead  she  found 
a  great  bare,  disorderly  place.  Sawdust  was 
scattered  on  the  ground ;  huge  boxes  were 
standing  about,  some  empty,  some  half  un- 
packed. From  farther  away  came  sounds  of 
loud  voices  talking  and  disputing,  and  the  stamp- 
ing of  horses'  feet.  It  was  neither  a  pretty  or 
a  pleasant  place ;  and  Alice,  feeling  shy  and  half 
frightened,  held  Papa's  hand  tight,  and  squeezed 
it  very  hard  as  they  waited. 

Pretty  soon  the  manager  came  to  them  with 
Mignon  beside  him.  She  looked  smaller  and 
more  childish  than  she  had  done  on  horseback. 
A  little  plaid  shawl  was  pinned  over  her  gauzy 
dress  to  keep  her  warm.  Alice  lost  her  fears 
at  once.  She  realized  that  here  was  no  fairy 
princess,  but  a  httle  girl  like  herself.  Mignon  s 
face  was  no  loss  sweet  when  seen  so  near.  Her 
cheeks  were  the  loveliest  pink  imaginable. 
Her  blue  eyes  looked  up  frankly  and  trustfully. 
When  the  Mayor  spoke  to  her  she  blushed  and 


RIDE    A    COCK-HORSE,  213 

made  a  pretty  courtesy,  clasping  Alice's  hand 
y^Yj  tight  in  hers,  but  saying  nothing. 

''  The  performances  will  recommence  in  ten 
minutes/'  said  Signor  Currie,  consulting  his 
watch.  Then  he  and  the  Mayor  moved  a  httle 
asiie  and  began  talking  together,  leaving  the 
little  girls  to  make  acquaintance. 

"  I  saw  you  this  morning/'  said  Alice. 

Mignon  nodded  and  smiled. 

''  Oh,  did  you  see  me  ?  I  thought  you  did, 
but  I  wasn't  sure,  because  we  were  up  so  high. 
Aunty  and  I  thought  the  procession  was  beauti- 
ful. But  I  liked  your  horse  best  of  all.  Is  he 
gentle?" 

^^ Pluto?  oh,  he's  very  gentle,''  rephed  Mig- 
non ''-  Only  now  and  then  he  gets  a  little  wild 
when  the  people  hurrah  and  clap  very  loud. 
But  he  always  knows  me." 

^^How  beautifully  you  do  ride,"  went  on 
Ahce.  "It  looks  just  like  flying  when  you 
jump  through  the  hoops.  I  wish  I  l^new  how. 
Is  it  very  hard  to  do?" 


214  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

"No  —  except  when  I  get  tired.  Tben  I 
don't  do  it  well.  But  as  long  as  the  music 
plays  I  don't  feel  tired.  Sometimes  before  I 
come  out  I  am  frightened,  and  think  I  can't  do 
it  at  all,  but  then  I  hear  the  band  begin,  and  I 
know  I  can.     Oh  !  don't  you  love  music  ?  " 

"Y  —  es/'  said  Alice  wonderingly,  for  Mig- 
non's  eyes  sparkled  and  her  face  flushed  as  she 
asked  this  question.  "1  hke  music  when  it's 
pretty." 

"  I  love  it  so  so  much,"  went  on  Mignon  con- 
fidentially. "It's  like  flowers  —  and  colors  — 
all  sorts  of  things  —  sunsets  too.  Our  band 
plays  beautifully,  don't  you  think  so  ?  It  makes 
me  feel  as  if  I  could  do  any  thing  in  the  world, 
fly  or  dance  on  the  air,  —  any  thing !  It's  quite 
different  when  they  stop.  Then  I  don't  want 
to  jump  or  spring,  but  just  to  sit  still.  If  they 
would  keep  on  playing  always,  I  don't  believe  I 
should  ever  get  tired." 

"  How  funny !  "  said  the  practical  Alice.  "  I 
never  feel  that  way  at  all.     Aunty  says  I  haven't 


RIDE    A    COCK-HORSE.  215 

got  a  bit  of  ear  for  music.  Did  you  see  Aunty 
at  the  window  this  morning  when  you  looked 
up?" 

"  Was  that  your  Aimty  ?  I  thought  it  was 
your  Mamma." 

''  No ;  I  haven't  got  any  Mamma.  She  died 
when  I  was  a  httle  baby.  I  don't  remember 
her  a  bit." 

"  Neither  do  I  mine/'  said  Mignon  wistfully. 
^'  Mr.  Currie  says  he  guesses  I  never  had  any. 
Do  you  think  I  could  ?  Little  girls  always  have 
Mammas,  don't  they  ? '' 

"  But  haven't  you  an  Aunty  or  any  thing  ?  " 
cried  Alice. 

Mignon  shook  her  head. 

^^No/'  she  said.     "  No  Aunty." 

"  Why !     Who  takes  care  of  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  all  take  care  of  me/'  replied  Mig- 
non smiling.  "Madame  Orley,  —  that's  Mrs. 
Currie,  you  know,  —  she's  very  kind.  She  curls 
my  hair  and  fastens  my  frock  in  the  morning, 
and  she  always  dresses  me  for  the  performance 


216        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

herself.  Mr.  Currie,  —  he's  kind  too.  He  g«ive 
me  these  anklets  and  my  silver  bracelets  and 
two  rings  —  see  —  one  with  a  blue  stone  and 
one  with  a  red  stone.  Aren't  they  pretty  ?  Goo- 
Goo  is  nice  too.  He  taught  me  to  write  last 
year.  And  old  Jerry,  —  that's  the  head  groom, 
you  know,  —  he's  the  kindest  of  all.  He  says 
I'm  like  his  little  granddaughter  that  died,  and 
wherever  we  go  he  almost  always  buys  me  a 
present.  Look  what  he  gave  me  this  morning," 
putting  her  hand  into  the  bosom  of  her  frock 
and  pulling  out  an  ivory  needle-case.  "  T  keep 
it  here  for  fear  it'll  get  lost.  There's  always 
such  a  confusion  when  we  only  stop  one  night 
in  a  place." 

"  Isn't  it  pretty,"  said  Alice  admiringly.  "  I'm 
glad  Jerry  gave  it  to  you.  But  I  wish  you  had 
an  Aunty,  because  mine  is  so  nice." 

"  Or  a  Mamma,"  said  Mignon  thoughtfully. 
^^  If  I  only  had  a  Mamma  of  my  own,  and  music 
which  would  play  all  the  time  and  never  stop, 
I  should  be  just  happy.  I  wouldn't  mind  the 
Enchanted  Steed  then,  —  or  any  thing." 


RIDE   A    COCK-HORSE.  217 

"  What's  the  Enchanted  Steed  ?  "  asked  Alice. 

"  Oh,  —  one  of  the  things  I  do.  It's  harder 
than  the  rest,  so  I  don't  hke  it  quite  so  well. 
You'll  see  —  it's  the  grand  finale  to-night." 

A  sharp  little  bell  tinkled. 

"  That's  to  ring  up  the  curtain/'  said  Mignon. 
"  I  must  go.  Thank  you  so  much  for  coming  to 
see  me.'' 

"Oh,  wait  one  .minute!"  cried  Alice,  diving 
into  her  pocket.  "  Yes,  I  thought  so.  Here's 
my  silver  thimble.  Won't  you  take  it  for  a 
keepsake,  dear,  to  go  with  your  needle-book, 
you  know?  And  don't  forget  me,  because  I 
never,  never  shall  forget  you.  My  name's 
Alice,  —  Alice  Flower." 

"  How  pretty ! "  cried  Mignon,  looking  ad- 
miringly at  the  thimble.  "  How  kind  you  are  ! 
Good-by." 

"  Kiss  your  hand  to  me  from  the  back  of  the 
horse,  won't  you,  please  ?  "  said  Alice.  "  That 
will  be  splendid !     Good-by,  dear,  good-by." 

The   two  children  kissed   each  other;    then 


218        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

Mignon  ran  away,  tucking  the  thimble  into  her 
bosom  as  she  went. 

"  0  Aunty !  you  never  saw  such  a  darling 
little  thing  as  she  is !  "  cried  Alice,  when  they 
had  got  back  to  the  box.  '^  So  sweet,  and  so 
pretty,  prettier  than  any  of  the  little  girls  we 
know.  Aunty.  I'm  sure  you'd  think  so  if  you 
saw  her  near.  She  hasn't  any  Mamma  either, 
and  no  Aunty  or  any  thing.  She  wishes  so 
much  she  had.  But  she  says  all  the  circus 
people  are  real  kind  to  her.  You  can't  think 
how  much  she  loves  music.  If  the  band  would 
play  all  the  time,  she  could  fly,  she  says,  or  do 
any  thing  else  that  was  hard.  It  was  so  queer 
to  hear  her  talk  about  it.  I  never  saw  any  little 
girl  that  I  liked  so  much.  I  wish  she  was  my 
sister,  my  own  true  sister  j  really  I  do.  Aunty." 

"Why,  Alice,  I  never  knew  you  so  excited 
about  anybody  before,"  remarked  Miss  Flower. 

"  0  Aunty !  she  isn't  anybody ;  she's  quite 
different  from  common  people.  How  I  wish 
she'd  hurry  and  come  out  again.     She  promised 


RIDE    A    COCK-HORSE.  219 

to  kiss  her  hand  to  me  from  the  horse's  back, 
Papa.     Won't  that  be  splendid?" 

The  whole  performance  was  more  interesting 
to  Alice  since  her  conversation  with  Mignon. 
Madame  Orley  and  her  trained  steed  were  quite 
new  and  different  now  that  she  knew  that 
Madame  Orley  s  real  name  was  Currie,  and  that 
she  curled  Mignon  s  hair  every  morning.  Goo- 
Goo  seemed  like  an  intimate  friend,  because  of 
the  writing-lessons.  Alice  was  even  sure  that 
she  could  make  out  old  Jerry  of  the  needle-book 
among  the  attendants.  Kound  and  round  and 
round  sped  the  horses.  Goo-Goo  cracked  his 
whip.  The  trapezeist  swung  high  in  air  like 
a  glittering  blue  spider  suspended  by  silver 
threads.  Mr.  Vernon  Twomley's  Bucephalus 
did  every  thing  but  talk.  Somebody  else  on 
another  horse  played  the  violin  and  stood  on  his 
head  meanwhile,  all  at  full  gallop !  It  was  de- 
Hghtful.  But  the  best  of  all  was  when  Mignon 
came  out  again.  Her  cheeks  were  rosier,  her 
eyes  brighter  than  ever,  and  —  yes  —  she  rec- 


220  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

ollected  Iter  promise,  for  during  the  very  first 
round  she  turned  to  Alice,  poised  on  one  foot 
like  a  true  fairy,  smiled  charmingly,  and  kissed 
lier  hand  twice.  How  delightful  that  was  !  Not 
Alice  only,  but  all  the  children  present  were 
bewitched  by  Mignon  that  evening.  Twenty 
little  girls  at  least  said  to  their  mothers,  '^  Oh, 
how  I  would  like  to  ride  like  that ! "  and  many 
who  did  not  speak  wished  privately  that  they 
could  change  places  and  he  Mignon.  Alice  did 
not  wish  this  any  longer.  The  noise  and  con- 
fusion behind  the  scenes,  the  stamping  horses 
and  swearing  men,  had  given  her  a  new  idea  of 
the  life  which  poor  Mignon  had  to  lead  among 
these  sights  and  sounds,  the  only  child  among 
many  grown  people,  dependant  upon  the  chance 
kindness  of  clowns  and  head  grooms  for  her 
few  pleasures,  her  little  education.  She  no 
longer  desired  to  change  places.  What  she 
now  wanted  was  to  carry  Mignon  away  for 
a  companion  and  friend,  sharing  lessons*  with 
her  and  Aunty  and  all  the  oth*  good  things 


RIDE   A    COCK-HORSE.  221 

wliich  she  had  forgotten,  when  in  the  morn- 
ing she  wished  herself  a  part  of  the  gay  circus 
troupe. 

And  now  the  performances  were  almost  ovei. 
One  last  feat  remained,  the  Finale^  of  which 
Mignon  had  spoken.  It  stood  on  the  bills 
thus  :  — 

"GRAND    FINALE!! 

Y^   CONCLUSION 

WILL   BE  GIVEN  THE  STUPEFYING  FEAT 

OF 

THE  ENCHANTED    STEED, 

AND 

THE  FLIJHT   THROUGH  THE   AIR  I 

Performers: 

MADEMOISELLE  MIGNON  ;  HER  HORSE  PLUTO  ;   M.  ARISTIDB  ; 
AND  M.  JOACHIN." 

Alice  watched  with  much  interest  the  arrange- 
ments making  for  this  feat.  Fresh  sawdust  was 
sprinkled  over  the  arena,  the  ropes  of  the  tra- 
pezes were  lowered  and  tested :  evidently  the 
teat  was  a  difficult  one,  and  needed  careful 
preparation.  M.  Aristide  and  M.  Joachin  took 
their  places  on  the  suspended  bars,  the  ring- 


222        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

master  cleared  the  circle,  and  Mignon.rode  in  at 
a  gallop.  Three  times  she  went  round  the  arena 
at  full  speed,  then  she  was  snatched  from  the 
horse's  back  by  the  long  arm  of  M.  Aristide  ex- 
tended from  the  trapeze  above.  Pluto  galloped 
steadily  on.  One  second  only  M.  Aristide  held 
IVIignon  poised  in  air,  then  he  flung  her  lightly 
across  the  space  to  M.  Joachin,  who  as  lightly 
caught  her,  waited  a  second,  and,  as  Pluto  passed 
beneath,  dropped  her  upon  his  back.  It  looked 
fearfully  dangerous ;  all  depended  upon  the 
exact  time  at  which  each  movement  was  exe- 
cuted. The  whole  audience  caught  its  breath, 
but  Mignon  did  not  seem  to  be  frightened.  Her 
little  face  was  quite  unruffled  as  the  strong  men 
tossed  her  to  and  fro,  her  limbs  and  dress  fell 
into  graceful  lines  as  she  went  through  the  air ; 
it  was  really  like  a  bird's  flight.  Alice's  hands 
were  squeezed  tightly  together,  she  could  hardly 
breathe.  Ah  !  —  Pluto  was  an  instant  too  late, 
or  M.  Joachin  a  second  too  soon,  —  which  was 
it  ?     Mignon  missed  the  saddle,  —  grazed  it  with 


RIDE    A    COCK-HORSE.  223 

Ijer  foot^  fell,  —  striking  one  of  the  wooden  sup- 
ports of  the  tent  with  her  head  as  she  touched 
the  ground.  There  was  a  universal  thrill  and 
shudder.  Mr.  Currie  hurried  up,  Pluto  faltered 
in  his  pace,  whinnied  and  ran  back  to  where  his 
little  mistress  lay.  But  in  one  moment  Mignon 
was  on  her  feet  again,  making  her  graceful 
courtesy  and  kissing  her  hand,  though  she 
looked  very  pale.  The  curtain  fell  rapidly. 
Ahce,  looking  anxiously  that  way,  had  a  vague 
idea  that  she  saw  Mignon  drop  down  again,  but 
Aunty  said,  ^^How  fortunate  that  that  sweet 
little  thing  was  not  hurt;"  and  Alice,  being 
used  to  finding  Aunty  always  in  the  right,  felt 
her  heart  lightened.  They  went  out,  following 
the  audience,  who  were  all  praising  Mignon,  and 
saying  that  it  might  have  been  a  terrible  acci- 
dent ;  and,  for  their  part,  it  didn't  seem  right  to 
let  children  run  such  risks,  and  they  were  thank- 
ful that  the  little  dear  was  not  injured.  Many  a 
child  envied  Mignon  that  night ;  many  dreamed 
of  silver  spangles,  galloping  steeds,  roses,  ap* 


224  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

plause,  and  waked  up  thinking  how  charming  it 
must  be  to  hve  on  a  horse's  back  with  music 
always  playing,  and  exciting  things  going  on, 
and  people  praising  you ! 

Oh,  dear!  I  wish  I  could  stop  here.  Why 
should  there  be  painful  things  in  the  world 
which  must  be  written  about?  That  pretty 
courtesy,  that  spring  from  the  earth  were  poor 
Mignon's  last.  She  had  risen  and  bowed  with 
the  instinct  which  all  players  feel  to  act  out 
their  parts  to  the  end,  but  as  the  curtain  fell 
down  she  dropped  again,  this  time  heavily. 
Mr.  Currie,  much  frightened,  lifted  and  carried 
her  to  his  wife's  tent.  The  band,  who  were 
playing  out  the  audience,  stopped  with  a  dis- 
mayed suddenness.  Goo-Goo  untied  his  mask 
and  hurried  in.  Madame  Orley,  who  was  feed- 
ing Chimborazo  with  sugar,  dropped  the  sugar 
on  the  floor  and  ran  too.  Jerry  flew  for  a 
doctor.  Mignon  was  laid  on  a  bed.  They 
fanned  her,  rubbed  her  feet,  put  brandy  into 
her  pale  lips.     But  it  was  all  of  no  use.     The 


RIDE    A    COCK-HORSE,  225 

little  hands  were  cold,  the  blue-veined  eyeUds 
would  not  unclose.  Madame  Orley  and  the 
other  women  riders  who  were  clustered  beside 
the  bed  began  to  sob  bitterly.  They  all  loved 
Mignon ;  she  was  the  pet  and  baby  of  the  whole 
circus  troupe. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  doctor  came.  He 
felt  Mignon's  pulse,  and  tried  various  things, 
but  his  face  was  very  grave. 

"She's  a  frail  little  creature,"  he  said.  "No 
stamina  to  carry  her  through." 

"She's  opening  her  eyes,"  cried  Madame 
Orley.     "  She's  coming  to  herself." 

Slowly  the  blue  eyes  opened.  At  first  she 
seemed  not  to  see  the  anxious  countenances 
bent  over  her.  Then  a  look  of  recognition  crept 
into  her  face,  and  a  wan  little  smile  parted  the 
lips.  She  lifted  one  hand  and  began  to  fumble 
feebly  in  the  bosom  of  her  frock. 

"  What  is  it,  Mignon,  dear  ?  "  said  one  of  the 
women.  It  was  Alice's  silver  thimble  that  Mig- 
non was  seeking  after.     When  it  was  given  her 

15 


226  NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

she  seemed  content,  and  lay  clasping  it  in  her 
hand. 

Just  then  a  strange  noise  came  from  outside. 
PlutOj  suspecting  that  something  had  gone 
wrong,  had  slipped  his  halter.  A  groom  tried 
to  catch  him.  He  snorted  back  and  cantered 
away.  At  the  door  of  Madame  Orley's  tent  he 
paused,  put  in  his  head  and  gave  a  long  whinny. 

Mignon  started.  The  bells  on  her  ankles 
tinkled  a  little  as  she  moved. 

"  Now,  Pluto  "  —  she  whispered  faintly,  — 
''  steady,  dear  Pluto.  Ah,  there's  the  music  at 
last!  I  thought  it  would  never  begin.  How 
sweet,  —  oh,  how  sweet !  Thej^  never  made  such 
sweet  music  before.  I  can  do  it  now."  A  smile 
brightened  her  face. 

"  Has  she  a  mother?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

The  words  caught  Mignon's  ear.  She  looked 
up.  "  Mamma,"  she  said  —  "  Mamma !  Did  you 
make  the  music  ?  "  Her  head  fell  back,  she 
closed  her  eyes.  —  That  was  all. 

"  She  loved  music  so  dearly,"  said  one  of  the 
women  weeping. 


RIDE    A    COCK-^HORSE.  227 

"  She  has  it  now/'  replied  the  good  old  doctor, 
laying  down  the  little  hand  from  which  the  pulse 
had  ebbed  away.  "  Don't  cry  so  over  her,  my 
good  girl.  She  was  a  tender  flower  for  such  a 
life  as  this.  Depend  upon  it,  it  is  better  as  it  is. 
Heaven  is  a  home-like  place  for  such  little  ones 
as  she,  and  the  angels'  singing  will  be  sweeter  to 
her  ears  than  the  music  of  your  brass  band." 


LADY  QUEEN  ANNE. 
"  Where  is  Annie  ?  "  demanded  old  Mrs.  Pickens. 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE,  229 

''  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Not  far  away,  foi 
[  heard  her  voice  just  now  singing  in  the  woods 
near  the  house." 

"  That  child  is  always  singing,  always/'  went 
on  Mrs.  Pickens  in  a  melancholy  voice.  "  What 
she  finds  to  sing  about  in  this  miserable  place  1 
cannot  imagine.     It's  really  unnatural !  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  mother,  —  not  unnatural.  Ee- 
member  what  a  child  she  is.  She  hardly 
remembers  the  old  Hfe,  or  misses  it.  The  sun 
shines,  and  she  sings,  —  she  can't  help  it.  We 
ought  to  be  glad  instead  of  sorry  that  she 
doesn't  feel  the  changes  as  we  do." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad,"  responded  the  old  lady. 
"  You  needn't  take  me  up  so  sharply,  Susan. 
All  I  say  is  that  it  seems  to  me  unreasonable'' 

Miss  Pickens  glanced  about  the  room,  and 
suppressed  a  sigh.  It  was,  indeed,  a  miserable 
dwelling,  scarcely  better  than  a  hut.  Very  few 
of  you  who  read  this  have  ever  seen  a  place  so 
comfortless  or  so  poor.  The  roof  let  in  rain. 
Through  the  cracked,  uneven  floor  the  ground 


230  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

could  be  distinctly  seen.  A  broken  window- 
pane  was  stopped  by  an  old  hat  thrust  into  the 
hole.  For  furniture  was  only  a  rusty  stove,  a 
table,  three  chairs,  a  few  battered  utensils  for 
cooking,  and  a  bed  laid  on  the  floor  of  the  inner 
room,  —  that  was  all.  And  the  dwellers  in  this 
wretched  home,  for  which  they  were  indebted  to 
the  charity  of  friends  scarcely  richer  than  them- 
selves, were  ladies  born  and  bred,  accustomed 
to  all  the  comforts  and  enjoyments  of  life. 

It  was  the  old  story,  —  alas !  too  common  in 
these  times,  —  the  story  of  a  Southern  family 
reduced  to  poverty  by  the  ravages  of  war. 
Six  years  before,  all  had  been  different.  Then 
the  fighting  was  not  begun,  and  the  Southern 
Confederacy  was  a  thing  to  boast  over  and 
make  speeches  about.  The  gray  uniforms  were 
smart  and  new  then ;  the  volunteers  eager 
and  full  of  zeal.  All  things  went  smoothly  in 
the  stately  old  house  known  to  Charleston 
people  as  the  "  Pickens  Mansion."  The  cotton 
was  regularly  harvested  on  the  Sea  Islands,  and 


LADY  QUEEN  ANNE.  231 

on  the  Beaufort  plantation,  which  belonged  to 
Annie  ;  for  little  Annie,  too,  was  an  heiress, 
with  acres  and  negroes  of  her  own.  War 
seemed  an  easy  thing  in  those  days,  and  a  glori- 
ous  one.  There  was  no  lack  felt  anywhere  ; 
only  a  set  of  fresh  and  exciting  interests  in 
hves  which  had  always  been  interesting  enough. 
Mrs.  Pickens  and  the  other  Charleston  ladies 
scraped  lint  and  rolled  bandages  with  busj 
fingers ;  but  they  smiled  at  each  other  as  they 
did  so,  and  said  that  these  would  never  be 
needed,  there  would  never  be  any  real  fighting ! 
They  stood  on  their  balconies  to  cheer  and 
applaud  the  incoming  regiments,  —  regiments 
of  gallant  young  men,  their  own  sons  and  the 
sons  of  neighbors :  and  it  was  hke  the  opening 
chapter  of  a  story.  Ah!  the  story  had  run 
through  many  chapters  since  then,  and  what 
different  ones!  The  smart  uniforms  had  lost 
all  their  gloss,  blood  was  upon  the  flags,  the 
glory  had  changed  to  ashes ;  every  family  wore 
mourning  for  somebody.     The  pleasant  Charles- 


232  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

to]i  home,  where  Mrs.  Pickens  had  stood  on  the 
balcony  to  watch  the  gray-coated  troops  pass 
by,  and  little  Annie  had  fluttered  her  mite  of  a 
handkerchief,  and  laughed  as  the  gay  banners 
danced  in  air,  where  was  it?  Burned  to  the 
ground ;  only  a  sorry  heap  of  ruin  marked 
where  once  it  stood.  No  more  cotton  bales 
came  from  the  Sea  Islands.  First  one  army, 
then  the  other,  had  swept  over  the  Beaufort 
plantation,  trampling  its  fields  into  mire.  It 
had  been  seized,  confiscated,  retaken,  re-con- 
fiscated, sold  to  this  person  and  that.  Nobody 
knew  exactly  to  whom  it  belonged  nowadays ; 
but  it  was  not  to  little  Annie,  rightful  heiress 
of  all.  Stripped  of  every  thing,  reduced  to 
utter  want,  Mrs.  Pickens  and  her  daughter  took 
refuge  in  a  lonely  village,  far  up  among  the 
Carolina  hiUs,  where  some  former  friends,  also 
ruined  by  the  war,  offered  them  the  wretched 
home  where  now  we  find  them.  Little  Annie, 
sole  blossom  left  upon  the  blasted  tree,  went 
with  them.     It  was  a  miserable  life  which  they 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE,  233 

led.  The  pinch  of  poverty  is  never  so  keenly 
felt  as  when  the  recollection  of  better  days 
mixes  with  it  like  a  perpetual  sting.  All  the 
bright  hopes  of  six  years  before  were  over^  and 
the  poor  ladies  could  liave  said,  ''  Behold,  was 
ever  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow ! "  They 
grieved  for  themselves;  they  grieved  most  of 
all  for  their  beautiful  little  Annie,  but  Annie 
did  not  grieve,  —  not  she  ! 

Never  was  a  happier  little  maiden,  —  as 
blithe  and  merry  in  her  coarse  cotton  frock  and 
bare  feet  as  though  the  cotton  were  choicest 
satin.  She  was  as  pretty  too.  No  frock  could 
spoil  that  charming  little  face  framed  in  thick 
chestnut  curls,  or  hide  the  graceful  movements 
which  would  have  made  her  remarkable  any- 
where. Her  eyes,  which  were  brown  like  her 
curls,  danced  continually.  Her  mouth  was 
always  smiling.  The  dimples  came  and  went 
with  every  word  she  spoke.  And,  however 
shabby  might  be  her  dress,  she  was  a  little  lady 
always.     No  one  could  mistake  it,  who  Ustened 


234       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

to  her  sweet  voice  and  prettily  chosen  woixjs. 
The  pitiful  sadness  of  her  Grandmother,  the 
rigid  melancholy  of  her  Aunt,  passed  over  her 
as  a  cloud  drifts  over  a  blue  sky  on  a  sum- 
mer's day,  leaving  the  blue  undimmed.  She 
loved  them,  and  was  sorry  when  they  were 
sorry;  but  God  had  given  her  such  a  happy 
nature,  that  happy  she  must  be  in  spite  of 
all.  Just  to  be  alive  was  pleasant  enough,  but 
there  were  many  other  pleasant  things  beside. 
The  woods  were  full  of  flowers,  and  Annie 
loved  flowers  dearly.  Then  there  were  the 
beautiful  pine  forests  themselves,  with  their 
cool  shades  and  fragrant  smell.  There  was  sun- 
shine too,  and  now  and  then  a  story,  when 
Aunty  felt  brighter  than  usual.  The  negroes 
in  the  neighborhood  were  all  fond  of  little 
"  Missy  Annie."  They  would  catch  squirrels  for 
her,  or  climb  for  birds'  eggs ;  and  old  Sambo 
scarcely  ever  passed  the  hut  without  bringing 
some  little  gift  of  flowers  or  nuts.  There  was 
Beppo,  also,  a  large  and  handsome  hound  be- 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  235 

longing  to  a  distant  plantation,  who  came  now 
and  then  to  make  Annie  visits.  It  was  a  case 
of  pure  affection  on  his  part,  for  she  was  not 
allowed  to  give  him  any  thing  to  eat,  not  even 
a  piece  of  corn  bread,  for  food  was  too  precious 
with  the  stricken  family  to  be  shared  with  dogs- 
But  Beppo  came  all  the  same,  and  seemed  to 
like  to  race  and  romp  with  Annie  just  as  well  as 
though  the  entertainment  had  wound  up  with 
something  more  substantial.  Oh!  there  were 
many  pleasant  things  to  do,  Annie  thought. 

When  Aunty  went  out  to  call  her  that  day, 
she  was  sitting  under  a  tree  with  a  lap  full  of 
yellow  jessamines,  which  she  was  tying  into  a 
bunch.     As  she  worked  she  sang. 

"  Who  are  those  for,  Annie  ? "  asked  Miss 
Pickens. 

"  I  was  going  to  give  them  to  Mrs.  Randolph, 
Aunty.  She  came  yesterday  to  the  camp,  Juba 
says.     I  thought  she'd  like  them." 

Miss  Pickens  looked  rigid,  but  she  made 
no  reply.     "  The  Camp  "  was  a  depot  of  United 


236        NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

States  supplies,  established  for  the  relief  of  the 
poor  blacks  and  whites  of  the  region,  and  Major 
Randolph  was  the  officer  in  charge  of  it.  In  her 
great  poverty,  Miss  Pickens  had  been  forced  to 
apply  with  the  rest  of  her  neighbors  for  this  aid, 
going  every  week  with  a  basket  on  her  arm, 
and  receiving  the  same  rations  of  bacon  and 
corn-meal  which  the  poorest  negroes  received. 
It  was  bitter  bread  ;  but  what  can  one  do  wh^n 
one  is  starving?  Major  Eandolph  was  soiry 
for  the  poor  lady,  and  kind  and  courteous 
always,  but  Miss  Pickens  could  not  be  grateful ; 
he  was  one  of  the  Northern  invaders  who  had 
helped  to  crush  her  hopes  and  that  of  her  State, 
and  to  bring  them  to  this  extremity  ;  and  though 
she  took  the  corn-meal,  she  had  no  thanks  in 
her  heart. 

"  We  are  going  to  the  village  this  afternoon, 
aren't  we.  Aunty  ?  "  went  on  Annie. 

"  Yes,  we  must,"  replied  her  Aunt.  "  I  came 
to  tell  you  to  get  ready.  And,  Annie,  don't  sing 
go  loud  when  you  are  near  the  house.  Grand- 
mamma doesn't  like  to  hear  it." 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE,  237 

"  Doesn't  she  ?  "  said  Annie  wondering.  "  1 11 
try  to  remember,  Aunty.  But  sometimes  I 
don't  know  when  I  am  singing.  It  just  sings  of 
itself." 

"  Getting  ready "  consisted  of  tying  on  two 
faded,  flapping  sun-bonnets,  to  which  Miss  Pick- 
ens added  an  old  ragged  India  shawl,  relic  of 
past  grandeur.  Annie's  feet  were  bare,  her 
Aunt  wore  army  shoes  made  of  cow-skin,  part 
of  the  Bureau  supply.  She  was  a  tall,  thin 
woman,  and,  with  the  habit  of  former  days,  car 
ried  her  head  high  in  air  as  she  walked  along. 
Little  fairy  Annie  danced  by  her  side,  now  stop- 
ping to  gather  a  flower,  now  to  hsten  to  a  bird, 
chatting  and  laughing  all  the  way,  as  though 
she  were  a  bird  herself,  and  never  heeding 
Aunty's  melancholy  looks  or  short  answers. 

"  Who  are  those  people  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph of  her  husband,  as  she  watched  the  odd- 
looking  pair  come  along  the  road.  "  Do  look, 
Harry.  Such  a  strange  woman,  and  —  I  do 
declare,  the  prettiest  child  I  ever  saw  in  my 
life.     Tell  me  who  they  are  ?  " 


238        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

"  Oh^  that's  my  little  pet,  Annie  Pickens/' 
replied  the  Major.  Then  he  hastily  t(.ld  his 
wife  the  story. 

"The  poor  ladies  suffer  dreadfully  both  in 
pride  and  in  pocket,  I  fear/'  he  added.  '^  But 
Annie,  bless  her !  she  doesn't  know  what  suffer- 
ing means,  any  more  than  if  she  were  a  bird  or 
a  squirrel.  I  thought  you'd  take  a  fancy  to  her, 
Blanche  ;  and  perhaps  you  can  think  of  some 
way  to  help  them.  Women  know  how  to  set 
about  such  things.  I'm  such  a  clumsy  fellow 
that  all  I  dared  attempt  was  to  deal  out  as  much 
meal  and  bacon  as  the  Aunt  could  carry." 

Blanche  Randolph  found  it  easy  to  "  take  a 
fancy  "  to  the  sweet  little  creature  who  lifted  to 
her  such  beaming  eyes  as  she  made  her  offering 
of  the  yellow  jessamines.  "  Oh,  dear !  "  she  said 
to  herself,  "how  I  wish  she  belonged  to  me." 
She  kissed  and  fondled  her,  and  while  Miss 
Pickens  transacted  her  business,  Annie  sat  on 
Mrs.  Randolph's  lap  and  talked  to  her,  quite  aa 
though  they  were  old  acquaintances. 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  239 

^*  What  do  you  do  all  day,  dear  ?  Have  you 
any  one  to  play  with  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  T  have  Beppo.  That's  Mr.  Ash- 
ley's dog,  you  know.  He  runs  over  to  see  me 
almost  every  week,  and  we  have  such  nice 
times." 

"  And  don't  you  study  any  lessons  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Eandolph. 

"No,  not  now.  I  used  to,  but  Aunty  is  so 
busy  now  that  she  says  she  hasn't  time  to  teach 
me.     Beside,  all  my  books  were  burned  up." 

"  Come,  Annie,  it  is  time  to  go,"  said  Miss 
Pickens,  moving  away,  with  a  curt  bow  to 
Mrs.  Randolph. 

Annie  lingered  to  kiss  Jier  new  triend. 

"  I  shall  pick  you  some  fresh  flowers  next 
time  we  come,"  she  said. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Harry,"  said  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph, "  that  is  the  most  pathetically  sweet  httle 
darling  I  ever  saw." 

"  Pathetic  ?  Why  she's  as  happj'  as  the  day 
is  long" 


240        NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

"  Ah,  you  don't  understand  !  That's  the  very 
reason.  '  I  feel  to  cry  '  over  her,  as  old  Mauma 
Sally  would  say." 

Medville  was  a  quiet,  lonely  place.  All  the 
people,  black  and  white  alike,  were  very  poor. 
Nobody  called  to  see  Mrs.  Randolph ;  there  were 
no  parties  to  go  to ;  and  after  a  while  she  learned 
to  look  forward  to  little  Annie's  visit  as  the 
pleasantest  thing  in  the  whole  week.  Annie 
looked  forward  to  it  also.  Her  new  friend  was 
both  kind  and  gay.  Always  some  little  treat 
was  prepared  for  her  coming,  —  a  book,  a  parcel 
of  cakes,  or  a  picture-paper  with  gay  colored 
illustrations.  Mrs.  Randolph  chose  these  gifts 
carefully,  because  she  was  afraid  of  offending 
Miss  Pickens,  but  Miss  Pickens  was  not  offended ; 
she  loved  Annie  too  dearly  for  that,  and  became 
almost  gracious  as  she  thanked  Mrs.  Randolph 
for  her  kindness.  After  some  time  Mrs.  Ran- 
dolph ventured  to  walk  out  to  the  cottage. 
What  she  saw  there  horrified  her,  but  I  can 
best  tell  what  that  was  by  quoting  a  letter  which 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  241 

^he  wrote  about  that  time  to  her  sister,  Mrs. 
Boyd,  who  was  spending  the  summer  in  Eng- 
land :  — 

"  Fancy,  dear  Mary,  a  miserable  log  hut  not 
one  bit  better  than  those  in  which  the  negroes 
dwell.  In  fact,  it  used  to  be  a  negro  hut,  some 
say  a  pig-pen;  but  that  is  too  bad,  I  cannot 
believe  it.  The  roof  lets  in  water,  the  floor  is 
broken  away,  the  windows  are  stuffed  with  rags 
and  an  old  hat.  Every  thing  is  perfectly  clean 
inside,  swept  and  scrubbed  continually  by  the 
poor  ladies,  and  they  are  real  ladies,  Mary.  It 
was  pitiful  to  see  old  Mrs.  Pickens  sitting  in  her 
wooden  chair  in  a  dress  which  her  former  cook 
would  have  disdained,  and  yet  with  all  the  dig- 
nity and  sad  politeness  of  a  duchess  in  difficul- 
ties. They  make  no  secret  of  their  extreme 
poverty ;  they  cannot,  in  fact,  for  it  stares  you 
in  the  face ;  but  they  ask  for  nothing,  and  you 
would  scarcely  dare  to  offer  aid.  I  was  so 
shocked  that  I  could  not  restrain  my  tears.  Miss 
Pickens  brought  nie  a  tin  cupful  of  water,  and 

W 


242       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

I  think  my  sympathy  touched  her.  for  she  has 
thawed  a  httle  since,  and  has  permitted  Annie 
to  accept  a  gingham  frock  which  I  made  for 
her,  and  some  stockings  and  shoes.  Such  dainty 
little  feet  as  hers  are,  and  such  a  lovely  child  ! 
I  have  scarcely  ever  seen  one  so  beautiful,  and 
it  is  not  common  beauty,  but  of  the  rarest  sort, 
with  elegance  and  refinement  in  every  feature 
and  movement.  It  is  a  thousand  pities  that  she 
should  be  left  here  to  grow  up  in  poverty  with- 
out education,  or  any  of  the  things  she  was  born 
to,  for,  as  I  told  you  in  my  last,  the  family  was 
once  wealthy,  and  Annie  herself  would  be  a 
great  heiress  had  not  the  war  ruined  them 
all." 

When  Mrs.  Boyd  received  this  letter,  she  was 
making  a  visit  to  some  friends  who  lived  in  a 
/ilia  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Grrant  were  the  names  of  these  friends.  They 
were  all  sitting  on  the  lawn  when  the  post  came 
in.  The  sunset  cast  a  pink  glow  on  the  curves 
of  the  beautiful  river ;  the  roses  w^ere  in  perfect 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  243 

bloom;  overhead  and  underfoot  the  grass  and 
trees  were  of  that  rich  and  tender  green  which 
is  peculiar  to  England.  The  letter  interested 
Mrs.  Boyd  so  much  that  she  read  it  aloud  to 
her  friends^  who  were  rich  and  kind-hearted 
people,  with  one  little  boy  of  their  own. 

Mrs.  Grant  almost  cried  over  the  letter.  It 
was  the  saddest  thing  that  she  had  ever  heard 
of,  and  all  that  evening  she  and  her  husband 
could  talk  of  nothing  else.  Little  Annie,  sound 
asleep  in  her  Carolina  cabin,  did  not  dream  that, 
three  thousand  miles  away,  two  people,  whom 
she  had  never  heard  of,  were  spending  half  the 
night  in  the  discussion  of  her  fate  and  fortunes ! 
Long  after  their  guest  had  gone  to  bed,  the 
Grants  sat  up  together  conversing  about  Annie ; 
and  in  the  morning  they  came  down  with  a 
proposal  so  astonishing,  that  Mrs.  Boyd  could 
hardly  believe  her  ears  when  she  heard  it. 

"  We  have  been  talking  in  a  vague  way  for 
years  past  of  adopting  a  little  girl,"  said  Mr.  Grant. 
^^We  always  wished  for  a  daughter,  and  felt 


244       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

sure  that  to  have  a  sister  would  be  the  best  thing 
in  the  world  for  Eupert,  who  is  an  affectionate 
Httle  fellow,  and  would  enjoy  such  a  playmate  of 
all  things.  But  you  can  easily  guess  that  there 
have  been  difficulties  in  the  way  of  these  plans, 
especially  as  to  finding  the  right  child,  so  we 
have  done  nothing  about  it.  Now  it  strikes  my 
wife,  and  it  strikes  me  also,  that  this  story  of 
your  sisters  is  a  clear  leading  of  Providence. 
Here  is  a  child  who  wants  a  home,  and  here  are 
we  who  ^^/Ont  a  child.  So  we  have  made  up  our 
minds  to  send  to  America  for  Annie,  and,  if  her 
relatives  will  consent,  to  adopt  her  as  our  own. 
¥J11  you  give  me  Mrs.  Randolph's  exact  ad- 
d/  ss?" 

^  But  it  is  so  sudden.     Are  you  sure  you  won't 
repent?"  asked  Mrs.  Boyd. 

"-Y  dont  think  we  shall.  And  it  seems  less 
sudden  to  us  than  to  you,  because,  as  I  have  ex- 
plained, this  idea  has  been  in  our  minds  for  a 
a  long  time." 

You    can   fancy   the    excitement    of    Major 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  245 

and  Mrs.  Randolph  when  Mr.  Grant's  letter 
reached  Medville.  He  offered  to  adopt  Annie^ 
and  treat  her  in  every  respect  as  though  she 
were  his  own  daughter,  provided  her  Grand- 
mother and  Aunt  would  give  her  up  entirely, 
and  promise  never  again  to  claim  her  as  theirs. 

"  If  they  will  consent  to  this/'  wrote  Mr.  Grant, 
"  I  will  settle  a  hundred  pounds  a  year  on  them 
for  the  rest  of  their  lives.  I  will  also  employ  a 
lawyer  to  see  if  any  thing  can  be  done  towards 
getting  back  a  part  of  the  confiscated  property. 
But  all  this  is  only  on  condition  that  the  child 
is  absolutely  made  over  to  me.  I  am  not 
willing  to  take  her  with  any  loop-hole  left  open 
by  which  she  may,  by  and  by,  be  claimed  back 
again  just  as  we  have  learned  to  consider  her 
our  own.  I  beg  that  Major  Randolph  will  have 
this  point  most  clearly  understood,  and  will 
attend  to  the  drawing  up  of  a  legal  paper  which 
shall  put  it  beyond  the  possibihty  of  dispute." 

The  day  after  this  letter  came,  Mrs.  Randolph 
put  it  in  her  pocket  and  walked  out   to  the 


246        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

mountain  hut.      She  felt  very  nervous  as  she 
tapped  at  the  door. 

"It  was  a  terrible  thing  to  do/'  she  wrote 
afterwards  to  her  sister.  "  There  were  the  two 
poor  ladies  as  stately  as  ever,  and  little  Annie  so 
bright  and  winning.  It  was  like  asking  for  the 
only  happy  thing  left  in  their  lives.  I  explained 
first  about  my  letter  to  you,  and  how  you  hap- 
pened to  be  staying  with  the  Grants  when  you 
received  it,  and  then  I  gave  Miss  Pickens  Mr. 
Grant's  letter.  Her  face  was  like  iron  as  she 
read  it,  and  she  swallowed  hard  several  times, 
but  she  never  uttered  one  word.  When  she 
had  done,  she  thought  for  several  minutes; 
then  she  said,  in  a  choked  voice,  ^If  you  will 
leave  this  with  us.  Madam,  you  shall  have  an 
answer  to-morrow.'  I  came  away.  Dear  little 
Annie  walked  half  way  down  the  hill  with  me. 
I  hope,  oh,  so  much,  that  they  will  let  her  go. 
The  life  they  lead  is  too  sad  for  such  a  child, 
and  in  every  way  it  is  better  for  them  all ;  but 
oh,  dear !  I  am  so  sorry  for  them  that  I  don't 
know  what  to  do." 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  247 

Next  day  Miss  Pickens  walked  doAvn  alon^ 
to  the  Relief  Station. 

"  My  mother  and  I  have  talked  it  over/' 
she  said  briefly,  "  and  we  have  decided.  Annie 
must  go." 

"  I  am  glad/'  said  Mrs.  Randolph.  '^  Glad  for 
her,  but  very  sorry  for  you." 

"It  is  like  cutting  out  my  heart/'  said  the 
poor  Aunt.  "  But  what  can  we  do  ?  I  am  not 
able  to  give  the  child  proper  food  even,  or 
decent  clothes.  If  we  keep  her  she  must  grow 
up  in  ignorance.  These  English  strangers  oflfer 
every  thing ;  we  have  nothing  to  offer.  If  we 
could  count  on  the  bare  necessaries  of  life, — 
no  more  than  those,  —  I  would  never,  never 
give  up  Annie.  As  it  is,  it  would  be  sinning 
against  her  to  refuse." 

"  Mr.  Grant's  assistance  will  do  much  to  make 
your  own  lives  more  comfortable,"  suggested 
Mrs.  Randolph. 

"1  don't  care  about  that.  We  could  go  on 
suffering  and  not  say  a  word,  if  only  we  might 


248  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

keep  Annie.  But  she  would  suffer  too,  and 
more  and  more  as  she  grows  older.  No,  Annie 
must  go." 

"  The  Grants  are  thoroughly  good  people, 
and  will  be  kindness  itself,  I  am  sure.  The  only 
danger  is  that  they  may  spoil  your  dear  little 
girl  with  over-indulgence.'' 

''  She  can  stand  a  good  deal,  having  had  none 
for  so  long  a  time,"  replied  Miss  Pickens  with 
a  sad  smile.  "But  Annie  is  not  that  sort  of 
child ;  nothing  could  spoil  her.  When  must  she 
go,  Mrs.  Randolph?" 

"Mr.  Grant  spoke  of  the  ^  Cuba,'  on  which 
some  friends  of  his  are  to  sail.  She  leaves  on 
the  24th." 

"  The  24th.     That  is  week  after  next." 

"  If  it  seems  to  you  too  soon  —  " 

"  No.  The  sooner  it  is  over  the  better  for  us 
all." 

"  I  half  feel  as  if  I  had  done  you  a  wrong," 
said  Mrs.  Randolph,  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  No,  you  have  done  us  no  wrong.     It  is  in 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  249 

our  own  liands,  you  see.  We  could  say  no, 
even  now.  Oh,  if  I  dared  say  it !  But  I  dare 
not,  —  that  is  worst  of  all,  —  I  dare  not."  She 
gave  a  dry  sort  of  sob  and  walked  away  rapidl}\ 
Mrs.  Randolph,  left  behind,  broke  down  and  in- 
dulged in  a  good  fit  of  crying. 

Dear  little  Annie  !  she  was  partly  puzzled, 
partly  pleased,  partly  pained  by  the  news  of 
what  was  going  to  befall  her.  She  clung  to 
her  Aunty,  and  declared  that  she  could  not  go. 
Then  Mrs.  Randolph  talked  with  her  and  ex- 
plained that  Aunty  would  be  better  off,  and 
Grandmamma  have  a  more  comfortable  house 
to  live  in,  —  making  pictures  of  the  sweet 
English  home,  the  kind  people,  the  dear  little 
brother  waiting  for  her  on  the  other  side  of  the 
sea,  till  Annie  felt  as  if  it  would  be  pleasant  to 
go.  There  was  not  much  time  for  discussion; 
every  thing  was  done  in  a  hurry.  Mrs.  Randolph 
sewed  all  day  long  on  her  machine,  making 
little  underclothes  and  a  pretty  blue  travel- 
ling dress.     Miss  Pickens  patched  up  one  of  her 


250  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

faded  silks,  for  she  was  to  accompany  Annie  to 
New  York  and  see  her  sail,  Mr.  Grant  paying 
all  the  expenses  of  the  journey  for  both  of  them. 
Grandmamma  cried  all  night,  but  in  the  day- 
time her  face  looked  set  and  hard.  There  were 
papers  to  sign  and  boxes  to  pack.  Beppo 
seemed  to  smell  in  the  air  that  something  was 
about  to  happen.  All  day  long  he  hung  around 
the  hut,  whining  and  sniffing.  Now  and  then  he 
would  throw  back  his  head  and  give  a  long, 
sorrowful  bay,  which  echoed  from  some  distant 
point  in  the  pine  wood.  The  last  day  came,  — 
the  last  kisses.  It  was  like  a  rapid  whirling 
dream,  the  journey,  the  steam  cars,  the  arrival 
in  New  York,  and  Annie  only  seemed  to  wake 
up  when  she  stood  on  the  steamer's  deck  and 
felt  the  vessel  throb  and  move  away.  On  the 
wharf,  among  the  throng  of  people  who  had 
come  down  to  say  good-by,  stood  Aunty's  tall 
figure  in  her  faded  silk  and  ragged  shawl,  look- 
ing so  different  from  any  one  else  there.  She 
did  not  wave  her   handkerchief   or  n\ake  any 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  ,       25] 

sigiJ,  but  fixed  her  eyes  on  Annie  as  if  she 
could  never  look  away,  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  expression  of  her  face  which  made 
Annie  suddenly  burst  into  tears.  She  wiped 
them  fast,  but  before  she  could  see  clearly,  the 
wharf  was  far  distant,  and  Aunty's  face  was 
only  a  white  spot  among  other  white  spots, 
which  were  partly  faces  and  partly  fluttering 
handkerchiefs.  A  few  minutes  more  and  the 
spots  grew  dim,  the  wharf  could  no  longer  be 
seen,  the  vessel  began  to  rock  and  plunge  in 
the  waves,  and  the  great  steamer  was  fairly  at 
sea. 

Do  you  suppose  that  Annie  cried  all  the 
voyage?  Bless  you,  no!  It  was  not  in  her 
to  be  sorrowful  long.  In  a  very  little  while 
her  tears  dried,  smiles  came  back,  and  the  trust- 
ful brown  eyes  were  as  bright  as  ever.  Every- 
body on  board  noticed  the  dear  little  girl  (md 
was  kind.  The  Captain,  who  had  little  girls  of* 
his  own  at  home,  would  walk  with  her  on  the 
deck  for  an  hour  at  a  time,  telling  her  stcu^ies 


252  NINE   LITTLE    GOSLINGS. 

which  he  called  '^  yarns/'  and  which  were  very 
interesting.  The  old  sailors  would  coax  the 
little  maiden  amidships  and  tell  her  "  yarns  " 
also,  about  sharks  and  whales  and  albatrosses. 
One  of  them  was  such  a  nice  old  fellow.  His 
name  was  "Jack/'  and  he  won  Annie's  affec- 
tions completely,  by  catching  a  flying-fish  in  a 
bucket  and  making  her  a  present  of  it.  Did 
you  ever  see  a  flying-fish?  Annie's  did  not 
seem  at  all  happy  in  the  bucket,  so  she  threw 
him  into  the  sea  again,  but  none  the  less  was 
she  pleased  that  Jack  gave  him  to  her.  She 
liked  to  watch  the  porpoises  turn  and  wheel  in 
the  water,  and  the  gulls  skim  and  dive;  but 
most  of  all  she  delighted  in  the  Mother  Carey's 
chickens,  which  on  stormy  days  fluttered  in  and 
out,  rocking  on  the  waves,  and  never  seeming 
afraid,  however  hard  the  wind  might  blow. 
Going  to  sea  was  to  Annie  as  pleasant  as  all 
the  other  pleasant  things  in  her  life.  She 
would  have  laughed  hard  enough  had  anybody 
asked  whether  unpleasant  things  had  never  hap- 


LADY  QUEEN  ANNE.  253 

pened  to  iier,  and  would  have  said  "  No  !  "  in  a 
minute. 

The  voyage  ended  at  Liverpool.  Annie  felt 
sorry  and  homesick  at  leaving  the  vessel,  as 
travellers  are  apt  to  do.  But  pretty  soon  a 
gentleman  came  on  board,  and  a  pretty  little 
boy.  It  was  Mr.  Grant  and  Eupert,  come  down 
to  meet  her,  and  they  were  so  pleasant  and  so 
glad  to  see  Annie  that  she  forgot  all  her  home- 
sickness at  once. 

"What  a  funny  carriage/'  she  exclaimed, 
when,  after  they  had  all  landed,  Mr.  Grant 
helped  her  into  a  cab. 

"  It's  a  Hansom,"  explained  Eupert.  ^^  Papa 
engaged  one  because  I  asked  him.  It's  such 
fun  to  ride  in  'em,  I  think.  Don't  they  have 
any  in  America  where  you  hve?" 

"  No,  —  not  any  carriages  at  all  where  I  live," 
replied  Annie,  nestling  down  among  the  cushions,' 
" — "onlj^  mule  carts  and — wheelbarrows — and 
—  oh,  yes  —  Major  Eandolph  had  an  ambulance. 
There  were  6eaz^-tiful  carriages  in  New  York 
though,  but  I  didn't  see  any  like  this." 


254  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

^^ Don't  you  like  it?" 

^^Oh,  yes, — very  much/'  replied  Annio,  cud- 
dling cosily  between  her  new  Papa  and  Brother. 

"  Isn't  she  pretty  ?  "  whispered  Rupert  to  his 
father.  "None  of  the  other  fellows  at  our 
school  have  got  such  a  pretty  sister  as  she  is. 
And  she's  a  jolly  little  thing,  too/'  he  added 
confidentially. 

Mrs.  Grant  had  grown  a  little  anxious  about 
the  first  meeting.  "If  we  should  be  disap- 
pointed !  "  she  thought.  But  when  the  carriage 
drove  up  and  her  husband  lifted  Annie  out,  a 
glance  made  her  easy.  "  I  can  love  that  child/* 
she  said  to  herself,  and  her  embrace  was  so  warm 
that  Annie  rested  in  her  arms  with  the  feeling 
that  here  was  real  home  and  a  real  Mamma, 
and  that  England  was  j  ust  as  nice  as  America. 

You  can  guess  how  she  enjoyed  the  lawn 

^with  its  roses,  and  the  beautiful  river.     Fresh 

from  the  poor  little  cabin  on  the  hill-top,  she 

nevertheless  fell  with  the  greatest  ease  into  the 

ways  and  habits  of  her  new  life.     It  did  not 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  255 

puzzle  or  disturb  her  in  the  least  to  live  in  large 
rooms,  be  waited  on  by  servants,  or  have  nice 
things  about  her ;  she  took  to  all  these  naturally. 
For  a  few  days  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant  watched 
with  some  anxiety,  fearing  to  discover  a  flaw 
in  their  treasure,  but  no  flaw  appeared.  Not 
that  Annie  was  faultless,  but  hers  were  honest 
little  faults ;  there  was  nothing  hidden  or  con- 
cealed in  her  character,  and  in  a  short  time  her 
new  friends  had  learned  to  trust  her  and  to  love 
her  entirely. 

So  here  was  our  little  girl  fairly  settled  in 
England,  with  dainty  dresses  to  wear,  a  gover- 
ness coming  every  day  to  give  her  lessons,  mas- 
ters in  French  and  music,  a  carriage  to  ride  in, 
and  half  a  dozen  people  at  least  ready  to  pet  and 
make  much  of  her  all  the  time.  Do  you  think 
she  was  happier  than  she  had  been  before  ? 
How  could  she  be  ?  One  cannot  be  more  than 
happy.  She  was  happy  then,  she  was  happy 
now,  —  no  more,  no  less. 

Rupert  used  to  talk  to  her  sometimes  about 


256  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

that  old  life,  which  seemed  to  him  so  strange 
and  dismal. 

^^How  you  must  have  hated  it!"  he  said 
once.  "  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  tell  me  any 
more.  What's  corn-meal  ?  It  sounds  nqtj 
nasty !  And  didn't  you  have  anybody  to  play 
with,  not  anybody  at  all,  or  any  fun,  ever  ?  " 

"Fun!"  cried  Annie;  "I  should  think  so! 
Why,  Eupert,  our  woods  were  full  of  squirrels. 
Such  dear  little  things !  —  you  never  saw  such 
pretty  squirrels.  One  of  them  got  so  tamed 
that  he  used  to  eat  out  of  my  hand.  His  name 
was  Torpedo.  I  named  him  myself.  Then 
there  was  Beppo,  the  dearest  dog  !  I  wish  you 
knew  him.  We  used  to  run  races  and  have  the 
greatest  fun.  And  Aunty  and  I  had  nice  times 
going  down  to  the  camp." 

"  Oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  !  "  sighed  Eupert.  He 
could  not  see  the  fun  at  all. 

When  Annie  had  been  three  years  with  the 
Grants,  Major  and  Mrs.  Eandolph  came  to  Lon- 
don, and  drove  down  to  the  villa  to  see  her.     It 


LADY   QUEEN  ANNE.  257 

was  a  great  pleasure  to  them  all.  Annie  had  a 
thousand  questions  to  ask  about  Grandmamma 
and  Aunty,  who  no  longer  lived  in  the  hut,  bu+ 
in  Medville,  where  Mr.  Grant  had  hired  a  small 
house  for  them. 

"  They  are  quite  comfortable  now/'  sa'd  Mrs. 
Randolph.  "  Aunty  has  gained  a  little  flesh,  and 
Grandmamma  is  stronger,  and  able  to  walk  out 
sometimes.  Old  Sambo  came  down  the  very 
night  before  we  left  with  a  box  of  birds'  eggs, 
which  he  wished  to  send  to  '  Missy  Annie.'  They 
are  in  the  carriage ;  you  shall  have  them  pres- 
ently.    And  here  is  a  long  letter  from  Aunty." 

"Annie,  you  look  just  the  same,"  remarked 
the  Major ;  "  only  you  are  grown,  and  the  sun- 
burn has  worn  off  and  left  you  as  fair  as  a  lily. 
You  used  to  be  brown  as  a  bun  when  I  knew 
you  first.    I  needn't  ask  if  you  are  happy  here  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  very,  very  happy,"  said  Annie  warmly. 

"A  great  deal  happier  than  you  were  when 
you  lived  with  Grandmamma  and  Aunty  ? " 
inquired  Mrs.  Randolph. 


258  J^INE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS. 

^'  Why,  no  !  "  cried  Annie  wonderingly ;  "  not 
any  happier  than  that,  I  used  to  have  lovely 
times  then;  but  I  have  lovely  times  here  too." 

"  That  child  will  never  lack  for  happiness/' 
said  the  Major,  as  they  drove  back  to  London. 
"She's  the  brightest  Kttle  being  I  ever  saw." 

"  Yes/'  replied  his  wife  ;  "  rain  or  shine,  it's 
all  one  with  Annie.  Her  cheer  comes  from 
within,  and  is  so  warm  and  radiant  that,  what- 
ever sky  is  overhead,  she  always  rejoices.  Let 
the  clouds  do  what  they  may,  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence :  Annie  will  always  sit  in  the  sun,  —  the 
sunshine  of  her  own  sweet,  happy  little  heart." 


UP,   UP,   UP,  AND   DOWN,   DOWN, 
DOWN-Y. 

"  Now,  Dinah,  it's  time  to  try  the  jelly." 

"  Wait  a  minute.  Miss  May;  it  can't  be  stiff 
yet." 


260       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

"Oh,  yes!  Dinah,  it  is;  I  think  it  is.  Ill 
only  just  breathe  on  it,  Dinah ;  I'll  not  disturb 
it  a  bit." 

"  Let  me  breathe  on  it  too." 

"And  me." 

Dinah  chuckled  silently  to  herself  in  a  way 
she  had.  She  opened  the  kitchen  window,  and 
in  one  second  three  Httle  girls  had  climbed  on 
three  chairs,  and  three  curly  heads  had  met  over 
the  saucer  of  currant  juice  which  stood  on  the 
sill. 

"I  thinTc  it's  going  to  jelly,"  said  May. 

Lulu  touched  it  delicately  with  the  point  of 
her  small  forefinger. 

"  There ! "  she  cried  triumphantly.  "  It  crin- 
hied;  it  did,  Dinah!     The  jelly's  come." 

"  Oh,  how  good ! "  added  Bertha,  applying 
her  finger,  not  so  gently,  to  the  hot  surface, 
and  then  putting  it  into  her  mouth  to  cool  it! 
"  It's  the  bestest  jelly  we  ever  made,  Dinah." 

Dinah  chuckled  again  at  this  "  we."  But, 
after  all,   why  not?       Had  not   the   children 


(JP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-Y.   261 

watched  her  scald  and  squeeze  the  currants,  and 
stir  and  skim  ?  Had  not  May  wielded  the  big 
wooden  spoon  for  at  least  three  minutes  ?  Had 
not  Lulu  eaten  a  mouthful  of  skimmings  on  the 
sly  ?  Were  they  not  testing  the  product  now  t 
The  little  ones  had  surely  a  right  to  say  "  we/* 
and  Dinah  accepted  the  partnership  wilUngly. 
She  lifted  the  preserving  kettle  on  to  the  table ; 
and  the  junior  (not  silent !)  members  of  the 
firm  mounted  on  their  chairs,  watched  with 
intense  interest  as  she  dipped  the  glasses  in  hot 
water,  and  filled  each  in  turn  with  the  clear  red 
liquid. 

"It's  first-rate  jell/'  she  remarked.  "Be 
hard  in  no  time." 

"  Put  a  tiny,  tiny  bit  in  my  doll's  tumbler/' 
said  Bertha,  producing  a  minute  vessel.  "  She 
likes  jelly  very  much,  my  dolly  does." 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  nice  to  cook !  "  exclaimed  Lulu, 
j  ;unping  up  and  down  in  her  chair !  Such  fun ! 
I  wish  Mamma'd  always  let  us  do  it." 

"What  shall  we  make  next?"   asked  May, 


262  NINE  Ll'lTLE  GOSLINGS. 

"Jumbles/'  responded  the  senior  partner 
briefly. 

"  I  like  to  make  jumbles/'  cried  May.  "  I 
may  cut  out  all  the  diamond-shaped  ones, 
mayn't  I,   Di?" 

"And  I,  all  the  round  ones?" 

"And  I,  the  hearts?" 

Dinah  nodded.  The  children  got  down  from 
their  chairs,  and  ran  to  the  closet.  They  came 
back  each  with  a  tin  cookie-pattern  in  her 
hand.  Dinah  sifted  flour  and  jumbled  egg  and 
sugar  rapidly  together,  with  that  precise  care- 
lessness which  experience  teaches.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  smooth  sheet  of  dough  lay  glisten- 
ing on  the  board,  and  the  children  began  cutting 
out  the  cakes;  first  a  diamond,  then  a  heart, 
then  a  round,  each  in  turn.  As  fast  as  the  shapes 
were  cut,  Dinah  laid  them  in  baking-tins,  and  car- 
ried them  away  to  the  oven.  The  work  went 
busily  on.  It  was  great  fun.  But,  alas !  in  the 
very  midst  of  it,  interruption  came.  The  door 
opened,  and  a  lady  walked  in, —  a  pretty  lady  in 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-Y.   263 

a  beautiful  silk  gown  of  many  flounceji^.  When 
she  saw  what  the  children  were  doing,  she 
frowned/ and  did  not  seem  pleased. 

"M.J  dears/'  she  said,  "I  was  wondering 
where  you  were.  It  is  quite  time  that  you 
should  be  dressed  for  the  afternoon.  Come 
upstairs  at  once." 

"  0  Mamma !  —  we're  helping  Dinah.  Mayn't 
we  stay  and  finish  ?  " 

"  Helping  ?  Nonsense !  Hindering,  you  mean. 
Dinah  will  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  you.  Come  at 
once." 

May  got  down  from  her  chair.  But  Lulu  and 
Bertha  pouted. 

"  We've  hung  aU  our  dolls'  things  out  on 
the  line,"  they  said.  "  It's  washing-day  in  the 
baby-house,  Mamma.  Mayn't  we  stay  just  a 
little  while  to  clap  and  fold  up  ?  " 

"  Clap  and  fold,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Frisbie. 
^'  Where  do  you  pick  up  such  words,  I  wonder. 
Of  course  you  can't  stay,  you  must  come  and 
be  made  decent.  Susan  shall  finish  your  dolls' 
wash." 


264  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

"  Oh,  no  !  please  Mamma,  it's  so  much  nicer 
to  do  'em  ourselves/'  pleaded  Lulu.  "  Don't  let 
Susan  touch  them.  We  love  so  to  wash.  Dinah 
says  we're  worth  our  wages,  we  do  it  so 
well." 

"Dinah  should  not  say  such  things/'  said 
Mrs.  Frisbie,  severely,  leading  the  unwilling 
flock  upstairs.  "Now,  Lulu,  do  look  pleasant. 
I  really  cannot  have  all  this  fuss  made  each 
time  that  I  tell  you  to  come  and  sit  with  me 
and  behave  like  little  ladies.  This  passion  for 
house-work  is  vulgar;  I  don't  like  it  at  all. 
With  plenty  of  servants  in  the  house,  and  your 
Pa's  money,  and  all,  there's  no  need  that  you 
should  know  any  thing  about  such  common 
doings.  Now,  go  upstairs  and  tell  Justine  to 
put  on  your  French  cambrics  and  your  sashes, 
and  when  you're  ready  come  straight  down.  I 
want  you." 

Mrs.  Frisbie  went  into  the  drawing-room  as 
she  spoke,  and  shut  the  door  behind  her  with  a 
little  bang.     She  was  a  good-natured  woman  in 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-Y,   265 

the  main,  but  at  that  moment  she  was  really 
put  out.  Why  should  her  children  have  this 
outlandish  taste  for  cooking  and  washing  ?  Bhe 
lilted  to  be  beautifully  dressed,  and  sit  on  a  sofa 
doing  nothing.  Why  shouldn't  they  like  to  do 
the  same  ?  It  was  really  too  bad,  she  thought. 
The  children  were  not  a  bit  like  her.  They 
were  "  clear  Frisbie  straight  through,"  and  it 
was  really  a  trial.  She  felt  quite  unhappy,  and, 
as  I  said,  gave  the  door  a  bang  to  relieve  her 
feelings. 

While  the  children  are  putting  on  their  French 
cambrics,  I  will  tell  you  a  Fairy  story. 

Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  wonderful  country 
where  all  the  inhabitants  are  Kings  and  Queens, 
a  little  Prince  was  born.  His  father  s  kingdom 
was  not  big,  being  only  a  farm-house,  two  clover 
fields,  and  a  potato  patch,  but  none  the  less  was 
it  a  kingdom,  because  no  one  else  had  right  to 
it  or  could  dispute  it.  The  Prince  was  born  on  a 
Sunday,  and  the  Fairy  who  has  charge  of  Sui> 
day  children  came  and  stood  by  his  cradle. 


266        NINE  LITTLE   GOSLINGS, 

^' You  shall  be  lucky  always/'  she  said,  touch- 
ing  the  baby's  soft  cheek  with  the  point  of  her 
finger.  "  I  give  you  four  gifts,  Sunday  Prince. 
The  first  is  a  strong  and  handsome  body/'  —  and 
the  Fairy,  as  she  spoke,  stroked  the  small  limbs 
with  her  wand.  "  The  next  is  a  sweet  temper. 
The  third  is  a  brave  heart  —  you'll  need  it,  little 
Prince,  —  all  people  do  in  this  world.  Lastly," 
—  and  the  Fairy  touched  the  sleeping  eyelids 
lightly,  —  "I  give  you  a  pair  of  clee^r,  keen  eyes, 
which  shall  tell  you  the  difference  between  hawks 
and  hernshaws  from  the  very  beginning.  This 
gift  is  worth  something,  as  you'll  soon  find  out. 
Now,  good-by,  my  baby.  Sleep  well,  and  grow 
fast.  Here's  a  pretty  plaything  for  you,"  — 
taking  from  her  pocket  a  big,  beautiful  bubble, 
and  tossing  it  in  the  air.  "  Run  fast,"  she  said, 
"  blow  hard,  follow  the  bubble,  catch  it  if  you 
can ;  but,  above  all  things,  keep  it  flying.  Its 
name  is  Fortune,  —  a  pretty  name.  All  the  little 
boys  like  to  run  after  my  bubbles.  As  long  as  it 
keeps  up,  up,  all  will  go  brightly ;  but  if  you  fail 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-K   267 

to  blow,  or  blow  unwisely,  and  it  goes  down, 
down  —  well  —  you'll  be  lucky  either  way,  my 
Sunday  Prince ;  'tis  I  who  say  so."  Thereupon 
the  Fairy  kissed  the  sleeping  child  and  vanished. 
Only  the  clear  eyes  of  the  little  Prince  could 
see  the  rainbow  bubble  which  hung  in  air  above 
his  head,  and  flew  before,  wherever  he  went. 
He  began  to  see  it  when  still  very  young,  and 
as  he  grew  bigger  he  saw  it  more  clearly  still. 
And  he  blew,  blew,  and  the  gay  bubble  went  up, 
up,  and  all  things  prospered.  Before  long,  the 
baby  Prince  was  a  man,  and  took  possession  of 
his  kingdom ;  for  in  this  wonderful  country 
plenty  of  kingdoms  are  to  be  had,  and  Princes  are 
not  forced  to  wait  until  their  fathers  die  before 
taking  possession  of  their  crowns.  So,  being  a 
grown  Prince,  he  began  to  look  about  for  a 
Princess  to  share  his  throne  with  him.  And  he 
found  a  very  nice  little  one ;  who,  when  he  asked 
her,  made  a  courtesy  and  said,  "  Yes,  thank  you," 
in  the  prettiest  way  possible.  Then  the  Prince 
was  pleased,  and  sent  for  a  priest.     The  priest's 


268       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

name  was  Slack.  He  belonged  to  the  Methodist 
persuasion,  Otsego  Conference,  but  he  married 
the  Prince  and  the  Princess  just  as  well  as 
though  he  had  been  an  archbishop.  They  went 
to  live  in  a  small  palace  of  their  own,  and 
after  awhile  some  little  princelings  came  to  live 
with  them,  and  they  were  all  very  happy 
together.  And  the  lucky  Prince,  being  fairy- 
blessed,  kept  on  being  lucky.  The  rainbow 
bubble  flew  before  ;  he  blew  strongly,  wisely ;  it 
soared  high,  high,  and  all  things  prospered. 
His  kingdom  increased,  his  treasure-bags  were 
filled  with  gold.  By  and  by  the  little  palace 
gi'ew  too  small  for  them,  or  they  fancied  it  so, 
and  another  was  built,  a  real  palace  this  time, 
with  lawns,  and  fish-ponds,  and  graperies,  and 
gardens.     The  only  trouble  wab  — 

But  here  come  the  children  downstairs,  so  I 
must  drop  into  plain  prose,  and  tell  you  what 
already  you  have  guessed,  that  the  Prince  T 
mean  is  their  father,  John  Frisbie,  —  Prince  John, 
if  you  like,  —  and  the  Princess's  name  was  Mary 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWNEY.   268 

Jones  before  she  was  married,  but  now,  of  course, 
it  is  Mary  Frisbie.  There  were  five  of  the 
p]incelings,  —  Jack  and  May  and  Arthur  and 
Lulu  and  Bertha.  The  new  palace  was  a  beauti- 
ful house,  with  wide,  lovely  grounds.  But  since 
they  came  to  live  in  it,  Mrs.  Frisbie  had  taken 
it  into  her  head  that  so  fine  a  house  required 
manners  to  match,  and  that  the  things  the 
children  liked  best,  and  had  been  allowed  to 
do  in  the  small  house,  were  vulgar,  and  might 
not  be  permitted  now.  This  was  a  real  trouble 
to  the  little  ones,  for,  as  their  mother  said,  the}' 
were  "  clear  Frisbie  all  through ; "  and  the  thrift, 
energy,  cleverness,  and  other  qualities  by  which 
their  father  had  made  his  fortune,  were  strong 
in  them.  Perhaps  the  Fairy  had  visited  their 
cradles  also.     Who  knows? 

The  girls  came  down  crisp  and  fresh  in  their 
ruffled  frocks,  with  curls  smoothed,  sashes  tied, 
and  their  company  dolls  in  their  hands. 

"Now  sit  down  and  be  comfortable,"  said 
Mrs.  Frisbie. 


270       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

Dear  me,  what  a  number  of  meanings  there 
are  to  that  word  "  comfortable  "  !  Mrs.  Frisbie 
thought  it  meant  pretty  clothes,  pretty  rooms, 
and  nothing  to  do.  To  the  boys  it  took  the 
form  of  hard,  hearty  work  of  some  sort.  Papa 
understood  it  as  a  cool  day  in  his  office,  business 
brisk,  but  not  too  brisk,  and  an  occasional  cigar. 
May,  Lulu,  and  Bertha  would  have  translated 
it  thus:  "our  old  ginghams  and  our  own 
way ; "  while  Dinah,  if  asked,  would  have  de- 
fined "  comfort "  as  having  the  kitchen  "  clar'd 
up  "  after  a  successful  bake,  and  being  free  to 
git  down,  darn  stockings,  and  read  the  "'^Illus- 
trated Pirate's  Manual,"  a  newspaper  she  much 
affected  on  account  of  the  blood-thirstiness  of 
its  pictures.  None  of  these  various  explana- 
tions of  the  word  mean  the  same  thing,  you  see. 
And  the  drollest  part  is  that  no  one  can  ever  be 
made  "  comfortable  "  in  any  way  but  his  own : 
that  is  impossible. 

The  company  dolls  were  very  fine  ladies  in- 
deed; they  came  from  Paris,  and  had  trunks 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-K   271 

full  of  splendid  dresses.  The  children  did  not 
care  much  for  them,  and  liked  better  certain 
decrepit  babies  of  rag  and  composition,  which 
were  thought  too  shabby  to  be  allowed  in  the 
parlor. 

"  Where  are  the  boys  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Frisbie, 
when  the  small  sisters  had  settled  themselves. 

"  Jack  was  going  to  have  his  sale  this  after- 
noon/' rephed  Mary.  "And  Arthur  is  auc- 
tioneer." 

"  His  sale  !     What  on  earth  is  that  ?  " 

"Why,  Manuna  —  don't  you  know?  Jack's 
chickens,  of  course.  Croppy  had  eleven  and 
Top-knot  nine.  There's  a  ^  corner '  in  chickens 
just  now,  Arthur  says,  because  most  of  the  other 
boys  have  lost  theirs.  Alfred's  were  sick  and 
died,  and  the  rats  ate  all  of  Charley  Eoss's,  and 
a  hawk  carried  off  five  of  Howard's.  Jack  ex- 
pects to  make  a  lot  of  money,  because  Croppy 
is  a  Bramahpootra  hen,  you  know,  and  her 
chicks   are   very  valuable.' 

"  Comer !    Lot  of  money !  Oh,  dear ! "  sighed 


272  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

poor  Mrs.  Frisbie,  "what  words  the  boys  do 
teach  you.  Where  they  learn  them  I  can't 
imagine.     Not  from  me." 

"  From  Papa,  I  guess/'  explained  Lulu  iimo- 
cently.  "  He  used  to  have  hens  when  he  was 
little,  and  sell  'em.  It  was  splendid  fun,  he 
says.  Grandmamma  thinks  that  Jack  is  just 
Papa  over  again." 

"All  of  you  are,"  said  Mrs.  Frisbie.  "Not 
one  of  you  is  a  bit  like  me.  Can't  you  sit  still, 
Bertha  ?  What  are  you  doing  there  with  your 
handkerchief  ?  " 

"  Only  dusting  the  table  leg.  Mamma ;  it 
wasn't   quite  clean." 

"Dear,  dear !  and  in  your  nice  frock.  Do  let 
the  furniture  alone,  child.  King  for  Bridget,  if 
any  thing  wants  cleaning.  You're  a  real  Med- 
dlesome Matty,  Bertha." 

"  0  Mamma ! "  cried  Bertha,  aggrieved. 
"Grandmamma  taught  me  to  dust  when  we 
lived  in  the  other  house,  you  know.  Grand- 
mamma said  it  was  a  good  thing  for  little  girls 


VP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-^Y.    273 

to  be  useful.     And  I  didn't  meddle  with  any 
thing  on  the  table ;  really  I  didn't,  Mamma." 

"  Never  mind,  dear/'  said  Mrs.  Frisbie.  "  It's 
no  great  matter,  only  I  don't  like  to  have  you  do 
such  things.  Now  sit  still  and  play  with  your 
doll."  She  opened  a  book  and  began  to  read. 
The  children  crept  nearer  to  each  other  and 
talked  in  low  whispers. 

"Let's  play  that  Eugenie  and  Victoria  are 
little  girls  come  to  make  each  other  a  visit,  and 
Isabella  is  their  Mamma." 

"  You  can't !  Little  girls  never  have  trains 
to  their  dresses  or  necklaces." 

"  Oh !  I  wish  Nippy  Scatch-Face  and  old  Maria 
were  down  here,"  sighed  Lulu. 

"  ni  teU  you,"  put  in  May.  "  We'U  play  they 
are  three  stiff  old  ladies,  who  always  wear  best 
clothes,  you  know,  and  sit  so  in  chairs ;  and  that 
Nippy  and  Maria  are  coming  to  make  them  a 
visit.  They  needn't  really  come,  you  know. 
Mrs.  Eugenie,  sit  up  straight.  Now  listen  to  the 
hateful  old  thing !     She's  talking  to  Victoria." 

18 


274  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

"  Sister,  when  are  those  children  coming  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  sister,"  squeaked  back  Luhi 
in  the  character  of  Victoria.  "I  wish  they 
wouldn't  come  at  all.  Children  are  the  bane 
of  my  existence." 

"  You  horrid  doll,  talking  that  way  about  my 
baby,"  cried  Bertha,  giving  Victoria  a  shove. 

"  Don't,  Beppie ;  you'll  push  her  down,"  said 
May.  Then  changing  her  voice  again,  "  Your 
manners  is  most  awful,  I'm  sure,"  she  squeaked, 
in  the  person  of  the  irate  Victoria. 

All  the  children  giggled,  and  Mrs.  Frisbie 
looked  up  from  her  book. 

At  this  moment  in  ran  the  two  boys,  hot, 
dusty,  and  excited,  —  Arthur  with  a  handful  of 
^*  fractional  currency,"  and  Jack  waving  a  two- 
dollar  bill. 

"  See  !  "  they  cried.  "Four  dollars  and  sixty- 
five  cents.  Isn't  that  splendid?  Mr.  Ashurst 
bought  all  the  Croppys,  and  gave  twenty-five 
cents  a  piece  for  them." 

'^  Let  us  see,  let  us  see  !  "  cried  the  little  girls, 
precipitating  themselves  on  the  money. 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-Y.     275 

"  Look  here,  now,  Mary  Frisbie  —  no  snatch- 
ing !  "  protested  Jack,  —  ^^  I  haven't  told  jovi 
the  best  yet.  Mr.  Ashurst  says  we're  such  good 
farmers,  that  he'll  give  us  work  whenever  we 
like  to  take  it.  He  says  I  could  earn  three 
dollars  a  week  now !     Think  of  that." 

"Oh,  how  much!"  cried  Lulu,  awe-struck, 
"  What  could  you  do  with  so  much,  Jacky  ?  " 

"  Now  boys,  —  listen  to  me,"  said  their  mother. 
^'  Go  upstairs  right  away  and  get  ready  for  tea. 
You  look  like  real  farmers'  boys  at  this  moment, 
I  declare,  so  hot  and  dusty.  I  don't  wonder 
Mr.  Ashurst  offered  you  work,  —  though  I  think 
it  was  very  impertinent  of  him  to  do  so.  I  hope 
you  said  that  your  father's  sons  didn't  need  to 
earn  money  in  any  such  way." 

"Why,  Mamma,  of  course  I  didn't.  Arthur 
and  me  like  to  work,  and  we  are  going  to  some- 
how just  as  soon  as  we're  big  enough.  It's  lots 
better  fun  than  going  to  school.  Besides,  Papa 
gays  we  may.  He  told  us  all  American  boys 
ought  to  work,  whether  their  fathers  are  rich  ot 
poor." 


276  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

"  Papa  likes  to  talk  nonsense  with  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Frisbie,  biting  her  lips.  "  Go  up  now  and 
dress." 

There  was  a  howl  from  both  boys. 

^'^O  Mamma!  not  yet.  It's  too  early  for 
that  horrid  dressing,  oh,  a  great  deal  too  early, 
Mamma.  We've  got  a  lot  to  do  in  our  chicken 
house.  Mayn't  we  go  out  again  for  a  httle 
while,  just  for  half  an  hour.  Mamma?" 

"Well  —  for  half  an  hour  you  may,"  said 
Mrs.  Frisbie  reluctantly,  consulting  her  watch. 
Away  clattered  the  boys,  —  the  girls  looking 
after  them  with  envious  eyes. 

Presently  Lulu  slipped  out  and  was  gone  a 
few  minutes.  She  came  back  sparkling,  with 
hei  cheeks  very  rosy. 

"Mamma,"  she  cried,  "what  do  you  think? 
David  says  if  you  haven't  any  objections,  we 
may  each  of  us  have  a  Httle  garden  down  there 
behind  the  asparagus  beds.  He'll  make  them 
for  us.  Mamma,  he  says,  and  we  can  plant  just 
what  we  hke  in  them.  0  Mamma !  don't  have 
any  objections  —  please." 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-Y,    277 

"  Will  he  really  ?  "  cried  May.  "  111  put  per- 
pergrass  in  mine,  —  and  parsley.  Dinah  says 
she  never  has  as  much  parsley  as  she  wants." 

^^Yes,  and  little  green  cucumbers/'  added 
Bertha,  —  "  little  teeny-weeny  ones,  for  pickles, 
you  know.  Dinah  is  always  wishing  she  could 
get  them,  but  David  never  sends  in  any  but 
big  ones.  0  Mamma !  do  say  yes.  It'll  be  so 
nice." 

''  Cucumbers !  peppergrass !  Well,  you  are 
the  strangest  children!  Why  don't  you  have 
pinks  and  pansies  and  pretty  things?" 

"  Oh,  we  will,  and  make  bouquets  for  you. 
Mamma ;  only  we  thought  of  the  useful  things 
first." 

"  Somehow  you  always  do  think  of  useful 
things  first,"  murmured  Mrs.  Frisbie.  "How- 
ever, have  the  gardens  if  you  like.  I'm  sure  I 
don't  care." 

The  children's  thanks  were  cut  short  by  the 
click  of  a  latch-key  in  the  hall-door, 

"  There's  Papa ! "    cried   Bertha  j    and,  like 


278  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

three  arrows  dismissed  from  the  string,  the  chil- 
dren were  off  to  greet  him.  It  was  always  a 
joy  to  have  Papa  come  home. 

He  was  looking  grave  as  he  opened  the  door, 
but  his  face  lit  np  at  once  at  the  sight  of  his 
little  girls.  Papa's  face  without  a  smile  upon  it 
would  have  seemed  a  strange  sight  indeed  to 
that  household.  It  did  cross  May's  mind  that 
evening  that  the  smiles  were  not  so  merry  as 
usual,  and  that  Papa  seemed  tired;  but  no  one 
else  noticed  it,  either  then  or  on  the  days  that 
followed. 

Bubbles  are  pretty  things,  but  the  keeping 
them  in  air  grows  wearisome  after  a  while. 
About  this  time  the  rainbow  bubble  set  afloat 
by  the  kind  Fairy  for  the  sleeping  Prince  began 
to  misbehave  itself.  Contrary  winds  seized  it ; 
it  flew  wildly,  now  here,  now  there ;  and,  in- 
stead of  sailing  steadily,  it  was  first  up,  then 
down,  then  up  again,  but  more  down  than  up. 
Prince  John  blew  his  hardest  and  did  his  best 
to  keep  it  from  sinking ;  for  he  knew,  as  we  all 


oP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-K   279 

do,  that  once  let  a  bubble  touch  the  earth,  and 
all  is  over,  —  its  glittering  wings  collapse, — 
they  fly  no  more. 

So  the  weeks  went  on.  Unconscious  of 
trouble,  the  children  dug  and  planted  in  their 
little  gardens.  Each  new  leaf  and  shoot  was  a 
wonder  and  a  delight  to  them.  Bertha's  plants 
flourished  less  than  the  others,  because  of  a 
habit  she  had  of  digging  them  all  up  daily  to 
see  how  the  roots  were  coming  on ;  but,  except 
for  that,  all  went  well,  and  the  bluest  of  skies 
stretched  itself  over  the  heads  of  the  small 
gardeners.  In  the  City,  where  Papa's  office 
was,  the  sky  was  not  blue  at  all.  High  winds 
were  blowing,  stormy  black  clouds  shut  out  the 
sun.  Bubbles  were  sinking  and  bursting  on 
every  side,  and  men's  hearts  were  heavy  and 
anxious.  Prince  John  did  his  best.  He  watched 
his  bubble  anxiously,  and  followed  it  far.  It 
was  fairy-blessed,  as  I  said,  and  its  wings  were 
stronger  than  bubble's  wings  usually  are;  but 
at  last   the   day  came  when  it  could  soar  no 


280        NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

longer.  The  pretty  shining  sphere  hovered, 
sank,  touched  a  rock,  and  in  a  minute  —  hey! 
presto  !  —  there  was  no  bubble  there  ;  it  had 
utterly  disappeared,  and  Prince  Frisbie,  with  a 
very  sober  face,  walked  home  to  tell  his  wife 
that  he  had  lost  every  thing  they  had  in  the 
world.  This  was  not  a  pleasant  or  an  easy 
thing  to  do,  as  you  can  readily  imagine. 

The  children  never  forgot  this  evening.  They 
used  to  vaguely  refer  to  it  among  themselves 
as  "  That  time,  you  know."  Papa  came  in 
very  quiet  and  pale,  and  shut  himself  up  with 
Mamma.  She  —  poor  soul !  —  was  much  dis- 
tressed, and  sobbed  and  cried.  They  heard  her 
as  they  came  downstairs  dressed  for  the  even- 
ing, and  it  frightened  them.  Papa,  coming  out 
after  a  while,  found  them  huddled  together  in 
a  dismayed  httle  group  in  the  corner  of  the 
entry. 

"  0  Papa !  is  it  any  thing  dreadful  ?  "  asked 
May.     "Is  Mamma  sick?" 

"  No,  not  sick,  darhng,  but  very  much  troub- 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN.  DOWN,  DOWN-Y.    281 

led  about  something.  Come  with  me  and  I  will 
explain  it  to  you."  Then  Papa  led  them  into 
the  dining-room ;  and,  with  Bertha  on  his  knee 
and  the  others  close  to  him,  he  told  them  that 
he  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  money  (almost  all 
he  had),  and  they  would  have  to  sell  the  place, 
and  go  and  live  in  a  little  house  somewhere,  — 
he  didn't  yet  know  exactly  where. 

The  children  had  looked  downcast  enough 
when  Papa  commenced,  but  at  this  point  their 
faces  brightened. 

^^A  really  Httle  house?"  exclaimed  May. 
^^  0  Papa !  do  you  know,  I'm  glad.  Little 
houses  are  so  pretty  and  cunning,  I  always 
wanted  to  Kve  in  one.  Susie  Brown's  Papa 
does,  and  Susie  can  go  into  the  kitchen  when- 
ever she  likes,  and  she  toasts  the  bread  for  tea, 
and  does  all  sorts  of  things.  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  may  toast  the  bread  when  we  go  to  live 
in  our  httle  house.  Papa  ?  " 

"  I  daresay  Mamma  will  be  glad  of  your  help 
in  a  great  many  ways,"  replied  Papa. 


282       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS, 

''  Shall  we  be  poor,  very  poor  indeed  ?  "  de^ 
manded  Bertha  anxiously. 

"  Pretty  poor  for  the  present,  I  am  afraid/* 
replied  her  Father. 

"  Goody !  goody  !  "  cried  May,  hopping  np 
and  down  on  her  toes.  "  I  always  wanted  to  be 
poor,  it's  so  nice !  We'll  have  the  &esi  times, 
Papa ;  see  if  we  don't !  " 

Papa  actually  laughed.  May's  happy,  eager 
face  amused  him  so  much. 

"  I  know  what  we'll  do,"  said  Jack,  who  had 
been  considering  the  matter  in  silence.  "  We'll 
raise  lots  of  chickens,  and  give  you  all  the 
money.  Papa." 

''  My  boj^,  I  am  afraid  you  must  give  up  your 
chickens.  There  will  be  no  place  for  them  in 
the  new  home." 

"  Must  we  ?  "  Jack  gave  a  little  gulp,  but 
went  on  manfully,  "  Well,  never  mind,  we'll 
find  something  else  that  we  can  do." 

"  Mr.  Ashurst  says  Jack  is  the  '  handiest '  boy 
he  ever  saw.  Papa,"  put  in  Arthur  eagerly. 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWNEY.    283 

"Well,  handiness  is  a  capital  stock-in-trade. 
Now,  dears,  one  thing,  —  be  as  good  and  gentle 
as  possible  with  Mamma,  and  don't  trouble  her 
a  bit  more  than  you  can  help." 

"  We  will,  we  will,"  promised  the  little  flock, 
Mrs.  Frisbie  was  quite  right  in  saying  that  the 
children  took  after  their  father.  Their  brave, 
bright  natures  were  as  unlike  hers  as  possible. 

It  is  sad  to  see  what  short  time  it  requires  to 
pull  down  and  destroy  a  home  which  has  taken 
years  to  build.  The  Prisbies'  handsome,  luxuri- 
ous house  seemed  to  change  and  empty  all  in 
a  moment.  Carriages  were  sold,  servants  dis- 
missed. Furniture  was  packed  and  carried 
away.  In  a  few  days  nothing  remained  but  a 
fine  empty  shell,  with  a  staring  advertisement 
of  "  For  Sale  "  pasted  on  it.  The  familiar  look 
was  all  gone,  and  everybody  was  glad  to  get 
away  from  the  place.  It  took  some  time  to 
find  the  "little  house,"  and  some  time  longer 
to  put  it  to  rights.  Papa  attended  to  all  that, 
the  children  remaining  meanwhile  with  Grand* 


284       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

mamma.  Mamma  had  taken  to  her  bed  with  a 
nervous  attack,  and  cried  day  and  night.  Every- 
body was  sorry ;  they  all  waited  on  her,  and  did 
their  best  to  raise  her  spirits. 

At  last  the  new  home  was  ready.  It  was 
evening  when  the  carriage  set  them  down  at 
the  gate,  and  they  could  only  see  that  there 
were  trees  and  shrubs  in  the  tiny  front  yard, 
and  a  cheerful  light  streaming  from  the  door, 
where  Dinah  stood  to  welcome  them,  —  dear 
old  Di,  who  had  insisted  on  following  their 
fortimes  as  maid  of  all  work.  As  they  drew 
nearer,  they  perceived  that  she  stood  in  a  small, 
carpeted  entry,  with  a  room  on  either  side. 
The  room  on  the  right  was  a  sitting-room ;  the 
room  on  the  left,  a  kitchen.  There  were  three 
bedrooms  upstairs,  and  a  small  coop  in  the  attic 
for  Dinah.  That  was  all ;  for  it  was  indeed  a 
"really  little  house,"  as  Papa  had  said. 

"  Oh,  how  pretty ! "  cried  Lulu,  as  she  caught 
sight  of  the  freshly  papered  parlor,  with  its 
cheerful  carpet,  and  table  laid  for  tea,  and  on 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWNEY,    285 

tlie  other  hand  of  the  glowing  kitchen  stove 
and  steaming  kettle.  "  Such  a  nice  parlor,  and 
the  dearest  kitchen.  Why,  it's  smaller  than 
Susie  Brown's  house,  which  we  used  to  wish 
we  lived  in.  Don't  you  like  it,  Mamma  ?  I 
think  it's  sweet'^ 

Mrs.  Frisbie  only  sighed  by  way  of  reply. 
But  the  children's  pleasure  was  a  comfort  to 
Papa.  He  and  Dinah  had  worked  hard  to 
make  the  httle  home  look  attractive.  They 
had  papered  the  walls  themselves,  put  up 
shelves  and  hooks,  arranged  the  furniture,  and 
even  set  a  few  late  flowers  in  the  beds,  that  the 
garden  might  not  seem  bare  and  neglected. 

The  next  day  was  a  very  busy  one,  for  there 
were  all  the  trunks  to  unpack,  and  the  bureau 
drawers  to  fill,  and  places  to  be  settled  for  this 
thing  and  that.  By  night  they  were  in  pretty 
good  order,  and  began  to  feel  at  home,  as  people 
always  do  when  their  belongings  are  comfort- 
ably arranged  about  them. 

Mrs.  Frisbie  was  growing  less  doleful.     Her 


286  NINE  LITTLE  GOSLINGS. 

husband,  who  was  very  tired,  lay  back  m  a  big 
arm-chair.  The  evening  was  chilly,  so  Dinah 
had  lighted  a  small  fire  of  chips,  which  flickered 
and  made  the  room  bright.  The  glow  danced 
on  Bertha's  glossy  curls  as  she  sat  at  Mamma's 
knee,  and  on  the  rosy  faces  of  the  two  boys. 
All  looked  cheerful  and  cosy;  a  smell  of  toast 
came  across  the  entry  from  the  kitchen. 

"  Bertha,  your  hair  is  very  nicely  curled  to- 
night," said  Mrs.  Frisbie.  "  I  don't  know  how 
Dinah  found  time  to  do  it." 

"Dinah  didn't  do  it.  Mamma.  May  did  it. 
She  did  Lulu's  too,  and  Lulu  did  hers.  We'r^ 
always  going  to  dress  each  other  now." 

Just  then  May  came  in  with  a  plate  of  hoi 
toast  in  her  hand.  Lulu  followed  with  the 
teapot. 

"  It's  so  nice  having  the  kitchen  close  by," 
said  May,  "  instead  of  way  off  as  it  was  in  the 
other  house.  This  toast  is  as  warm  as  —  toast '' 
—  she  concluded,  not  knowing  exactly  how  to 
end  her  simile. 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-Y,     287 

^^Your  face  looks  as  warm  as  toast,  too/' 
remarked  her  Father. 

"  Yes,  Papa,  that's  because  I  toasted  to-night. 
Diiiah  was  bringing  the  clothes  from  the  lines, 
60  she  let  me.'' 

"I  stamped  the  butter,  Papa,"  added  Lulu. 
"  Look,  isn't  it  a  pretty  little  pat  ?  " 

^'  And  I  sifted  the  sugar  for  the  blackberries," 
put  in  Bertha  from  her  place  at  Mamma's  knee. 

"You  don't  mind,  do  you  Mamma?"  ob- 
served Mary  anxiously.  "Di  pinned  a  big 
apron  over  my  frock.  See,  it  hasn't  got  a  spot 
on  it." 

*^I'm  glad  she  did,"  said  Mrs.  Frisbie,  sur- 
prised. "But  it  doesn't  matter  so  much  how 
you  dress  here,  you  know.  It  was  in  the  other 
house  I  was  so  particular." 

"  But  I  like  to  please  you.  Mamma,  and  you 
always  want  us  to  look  nice,  you  know.  We 
mean  to  be  very  careful  now,  because  if  we 
don't  we  shall  worry  you  all  the  time." 

Mrs.  Frisbie  put  her  arm  round  Mary  and 
kissed  her 


288       NINE  LITTLE  GOSLLNOS. 

''\  declare/'  she  said,  half -laughing,  half- 
crying.  ^^This  house  u  pleasant.  It  seems 
snugger  somehow,  as  if  we  were  closer  together 
than  we  ever  were  before.  I  guess  I  shall  llkv 
it  after  all." 

"  Hurrah !  "  cried  Prince  John,  rousing  frou? 
his  fatigue  at  these  comfortable  words.  "  That's 
right,  Molly,  dear !  You  don't  know  what  good 
it  does  me  to  hear  you  say  so.  If  only  you  can 
look  bright  and  the  chicks  keep  well  and  happy, 
I  shall  go  to  work  with  a  will,  and  the  world  will 
come  right  yet."  He  smiled  with  a  look  of  con- 
scious power  as  he  spoke ;  his  eyes  were  keen 
and  eager. 

I  think  that  just  then,  as  the  children  gathered 
round  the  table,  as  Mrs.  Frisbie  took  up  the  tea- 
pot and  began  to  pour  the  tea,  and  her  husband 
pushed  back  his  chair,  —  that  just  then,  at  that 
very  moment,  the  Fairy  entered  the  room. 
Nobody  saw  her,  but  there  she  was !  She 
smiled  on  the  group;  then  she  took  from  her 
pocket  another  bubble,  more  splendid  than  the 


UP,  UP,  UP,  AND  DOWN,  DOWN,  DOWN-Y.    289 

one  she  had  brought  before,  and  tossed  it  into 
the  air  above  Prince  John's  head.  "There/' 
she  said,  "  catch  that.  You'll  have  it  this  time, 
and  it  won't  break  and  go  to  pieces  as  the  first 
one  did.  Look  at  it  sailing  up,  up,  up,  —  this 
bubble  has  wings,  but  it  sails  toward  and  not 
away  from  you.  Catch  it,  as  I  say,  and  make  it 
yours.  But  even  when  it  is  yours,  when  you 
hold  it  in  your  hand  and  are  sure  of  it,  you'll 
be  no  luckier  and  no  happier,  my  lucky  Prince, 
than  you  are  at  this  moment,  in  this  small  house, 
with  love  about  you,  hope  in  your  heart,  and  all 
these  precious  little  people  to  work  for,  and  to 
reward  you  when  work  is  done." 


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UNIV.  OF  CALIF., 

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APR  1  8  1994 

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